In Books We Never Find

But My Deepest And Most Secret Love Belongs To The Fair-haired And The Blue-eyed, The Bright Children Of Life, The Happy, The Charming And The Ordinary.

Reduced To A Miserable Mass Level, The Level Of A Hitler, German Romanticism Broke Out Into Hysterical Barbarism.

And Then The Sly Arch-lover That He Was, He Said The Subtlest Thing Of All: That The Lover Was Nearer The Divine Than The Beloved; For The God Was In The One But Not In The Other - Perhaps The Tenderest, Most Mocking Thought That Ever Was Thought, And Source Of All The Guile And Secret Bliss The Lover Knows.

Distance In A Straight Line Has No Mystery. The Mystery Is In The Sphere.

Technology And Comfort - Having Those, People Speak Of Culture, But Do Not Have It.