USURY is the cancer of the world, which only the surgeon’s knife of Fascism can cut out of the life of the nations.

I would hold the rosy, slender fingers of the dawn for you.

The modern artist must live by craft and violence. His gods are violent gods. Those artists, so called, whose work does not show this strife, are uninteresting.

Humanity is the rich effluvium, it is the waste and the manure and the soil, and from it grows the tree of the arts.

Science is unpoetic only to minds jaundiced with sentiment and romanticism . . . the great masters of the past boasted all they could of it and found it magical.

Be not cheap or mediocre in desiring.

Glance is the enemy of vision.