Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athens--these
seven cities contend as to being the birthplace of the
illustrious read more

Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athens--these
seven cities contend as to being the birthplace of the
illustrious Homer.
[Lat., Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athenae,
Hae septem certant de stirpe insignis Homeri.]

I'm leaving because the weather is too good. I hate London when it's not raining.

I'm leaving because the weather is too good. I hate London when it's not raining.

The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of
each and every town or city.

The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of
each and every town or city.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth, nor blest abode
But the hope, the burning hope, and the read more

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth, nor blest abode
But the hope, the burning hope, and the road, the lonely road.
Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,
For we go seeking cities that we shall never find.

The first requisite to happiness is that a man be born in a
famous city.

The first requisite to happiness is that a man be born in a
famous city.

The California crunch really is the result of not enough power-generating plants and then not enough power to power the read more

The California crunch really is the result of not enough power-generating plants and then not enough power to power the power of generating plants.

I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High read more

I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.

I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic.

I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic.

No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of read more

No history much? Perhaps. Only this ominous
Dark beauty flowering under veils,
Trapped in the spectrum of a dying style:
A village like an instinct left to rust,
Composed around the echo of a pistol-shot.