We affirm that the world’s magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath—a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
While I certainly could not agree less with most of this (being then, now and forever a tremendous fan of "Mythology and the Mystic Ideal"), it is a compelling, and at times hilarious, read. And I do take umbrage on behalf of poor Nike.
Such fresh enthusiasm for celebrating "good factory muck", war and "scorn for woman" seems impossible today. Or is that just wishful thinking?