Song in the Manner of Housman" O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. Woe! woe, etcetera.... London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera.

Any damn fool can be spontaneous.

A crowd pagan as ever imperial Rome was, eager, careless, with an animal vigour unlike that of any European crowd that I have ever looked at.

What matters most is not the idea, but the capacity to believe in it completely.

I dunno what my 23 infantile years in America signify. I left as soon as motion was autarchic -- I mean my motion.

What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage.

The concept of genius as akin to madness has been carefully cultivated by the inferiority complex of the public.