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Art that cannot rely on the joyous, heartfelt assent of the broad and healthy mass of the people, but depends on tiny cliques that are self-interested and blasé by turns, is intolerable. It seeks to confuse the sound instinct of the people instead of gladly confirming it machine.
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Cosmic hurricanes spray out into the void, shatter the space, burst with immeasurable force of the imaginary upon quaking towers. Rhomboidal, opalescent, shimmering arches sink upward to unattainable zeniths. Tumbled matter encounters vast clefts, the erratic merges with cascading labyrinths machine.
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He thought of death in its infinite groanings, of Aztecs ripping out living hearts and of cancer and three-year-olds buried alive and he wondered whether God was alien and cruel… he stared at the sun coming up behind the Capitol, streaking the Potomac with orange light; and then down at the outrage, the horror at his feet. Something had gone wrong between man and his creator and the evidence was here on this boathouse dock machine.
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