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3 lucky - those of us who paint and write and make songs.

 I'm pretty sure money is the great evil. You get it and it seperates you - at once from life
 We are all cramped, hurt, all the time, by what goes on.
 How can art flourish.  I'll tell you Charles, if the Russians pull it off - you'll see - some day

a flowering there. Think of a whole nation of people who can be sure of work - the old and the sick and the weary descently taken care of - The land belonging to the state - the factories belonging to the state.

 The artist someday perhaps having a real chance to function in the state.  Here you are - you and John and

a thousand others. How terribly houses, in which people live, need living pictures. The work you could all have to do would be inexhaustable. Its worth fighting for - the beginning of it. It's worth any price. I guess all of us, in