'...It was not so much an epic - as a towering image of the world in conflict, of man and the mystic vine whose fruit is Life and Death. It was the black mass of the Spring, the anguish of renewal when the unfurling bud was the signal for death, when the soft winds reopened the stench of last year's dead, and the lovers' moon led the way to destruction, when the rising sap, the terrible inevitability of spring, filled every heart with fear, when love died in hunger, when beauty was destroyed at its source in the eye, when everything the heart treasured was buried under the weight of metal, when every hopeful flower that broke the sod was a candle for a lost generation...'
from Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by M. Barnard Eldershaw (Part IV)
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