there is nothing so corrosive to the public character (as the body politic was known in the olden days) as the estate numbered four a house on the lane that demands you attend all its parties a gatsby that wants not a single daisy but all you ripe flowers who can hear the noise attend to it, you won't have to clean up the mess take this fine drink, it won't make you drunk quickly [but it will addict you and steal your soul] oh moralizing journalists! none weep so feeble and wet as you for the effect that you have caused as a child cries for a bowl knocked off the table in an attempt to get to something forbidden yet there is no parent to teach you for you demand, I am your grandparents pay homage to me and accept this paper in the mail it was once currency and now it is a debt if only the world would pay attention as it once did you lament as you are watched and you will never die for you have sipped from the fountain of uncouth of eternal strife