A tale from which pieces have been raked out is like a fire that has been poked. One does not know the operation has been performed, but everyone feels the effect.

I have struck a city - a real city - and they call it Chicago... I urgently desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages.

I keep six honest serving men (they taught me all i knew); Theirs names are What and Why and When And How And Where and Who.

Enough work to do, and strength enough to do the work.

Your new-caught, sullen peoples, / Half-devil and half child.

Nations have passed away and left no traces, And history gives the naked cause of it - One single simple reason in all cases; They fell because their peoples were not fit.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'