These are the sensations and feelings that are gradually blunted by education, staled by custom, rejected in favor of social conformity.

It is not my purpose as a poet to condemn war (or to be exact, modern warfare). I only wish to present the universal aspects of a particular event.

What I do deny is that you can build any enduring society without some such mystical ethos.

If the individual is a unit in a corporate mass, his life is not merely brutish and short, but dull and mechanical.

It was play rather than work which enabled man to evolve his higher faculties - everything we mean by the word 'culture'.

Creeds and castes, and all forms of intellectual and emotional grouping, belong to the past.

Perhaps it is this theory of all work and no play that has made the Marxist such a very dull boy.