Why, if it was an illusion, not praise the catastrophe, whatever it was, that destroyed illusion and put truth in it's place?

Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost.

Yield to that strange passion which sends you madly whirling round the room.

It is far harder to kill a phantom than a reality.

Well, we must wait for the future to show.

One has to secrete a jelly in which to slip quotations down people's throats - and one always secretes too much jelly.

A strange thing has happened - while all the other arts were born naked, this, the youngest, has been born fully-clothed. It can say everything before it has anything to say. It is as if the savage tribe, instead of finding two bars of iron to play with, had found scattering the seashore fiddles, flutes, saxophones, trumpets, grand pianos by Erhard and Bechstein, and had begun with incredible energy, but without knowing a note of music, to hammer and thump upon them all at the same time.