There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers’ battle with the heavens that cover them.
Whether women are better than men I cannot say – but I can say they are certainly no worse.
We cannot afford the creeping paralysis that destroys the effective will of democracy – the paralysis carried by hate and rancor, between class and class, person and person, party and party, as plague is carried through the streets of a town.
With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand.
As I have not worried to be born, I do not worry to die.
Men who have reached and passed forty-five, have a look as if waiting for the secret of the other world, and as if they were perfectly sure of having found out the secret of this.
I have fallen in love with American names, the sharp names that never get fat.
We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
What they could do with ’round here is a good war. What else can you expect with peace running wild all over the place? You know what the trouble with peace is? No organization.
We don’t thrive on military acts. We do them because we have to, and thank God we are efficient.