War Is Like Love, It

Firebugs Dragging Their Gasoline Bottles Are Approaching The Academy Of Arts, With A Grin. And So, Instead Of Embracing Them, Let Us Demand The Freedom Of The Elbow To Knock The Bottles Out Of Their Filthy Hands. Even The Most Blockheaded Bureaucrat, Provided He Loves Peace, Is A Greater Lover Of The Arts Than Any So-called Art-lover Who Loves The Arts Of War.

Don't Expect The Theatre To Satisfy The Habits Of Its Audience, But To Change Them.

I Was Called Up In The War And Sent To A Hospital. I Dressed Wounds, Applied Iodine, Gave Enemas, Did Blood Transfusions. If The Doctor Ordered: "brecht, Amputate A Leg!", I Would Reply, "certainly, Your Excellency!", And Cut Off The Leg. If I Was Told, "perform A Trepanning!" I Opened The Man's Skull And Messed About With His Brains. I Saw How They Patched Fellows Up, So As To Cart Them Back To The Front As Quickly As They Could.

The War Which Is Coming Is Not The First One. There Were Other Wars Before It. When The Last One Came To An End There Were Conquerors And Conquered. Among The Conquered The Common People Starved. Among The Conquerors The Common People Starved Too.

Art Is Not A Mirror. Art Is A Hammer.