The statue of Liberty in New York Harbor is a somewhat trite object of contemplation. Both the cynic and the idealist have used that gigantic image to fill the gaps of many a moral tale and idle platitude. Its magnificent position, its ironic proximity to the marvelous metropolis of modern commerce, its embodiment of the ideas of Jefferson and Rousseau are so compelling a combination that I do not see how that dominating figure can fail to stir the pulses or quicken the imagination. Great is Diana of the Ephesians. It pleases men to solidify their ideals. The world is strewn with the frozen memorials of this desire, the desire for definite and unchangeable standards, the desire to record once and for all that this and no other is what we believe, and shall always believe. And, as in the case of Ozymandias, "nothing beside remains."