And Patroclus leaping on the Ilian shore, and Achilles sulking in his tent. I shall make Homer live again.
W. P. E.
Dear me. Is he dead? Why wasn’t I informed?
D. G.
Love and battle, heroism and beauty, action and emotion, pity and terror—what more can you ask? All the great sum of Hellenic life, its morning glow and its great noon of enviable beauty, shall be in my picture. It shall mingle humanity with the gods again.
W. P. E.
Through the exquisite agency of cutbacks?
D. G.
As surely as Marlowe’s topless towers—the captions are written for me—rose in the backdrops of your theatres. I shall glorify the mechanics of my art. I shall make them invisible and divine. I shall speak in words of white fire—
W. P. E.