News Is Like Food: It

Still I Sojourn Here, Alone And Palely Loitering, Though The Sedge Is Withered From The Lake And No Birds Sing. For I Sent The Bath Towel To The Wash This Morning, And Omitted To Put Out Another. I Have No Towel.

As To The Family, I Have Never Understood How That Fits In With The Other Ideals --or, Indeed, Why It Should Be An Ideal At All. A Group Of Closely Related Persons Living Under One Roof; It Is A Convenience, Often A Necessity, Sometimes A Pleasure, Sometimes The Reverse; But Who First Exalted It As Admirable, An Almost Religious Ideal?

Many Persons Read And Like Fiction. It Does Not Tax The Intelligence And The Intelligence Of Most Of Us Can So Ill Afford Taxation That We Rightly Welcome Any Reading Matter Which Avoids This.

It Wasn't Really Touching To Be Young; It Was Touching Not To Be Young, Because You Had Less Of Life Left. Touching To Be Thirty; More Touching To Be Forty; Tragic To Be Fifty; And Heartbreaking To Be Sixty. As To Seventy, As To Eighty, One Would Feel As One Did During The Last Dance Of A Ball, Tired But Fey In The Paling Dawn, Desperately Making The Most Of Each Bar Of Music Before One Went Home To Bed.

You Point Out That War Is Only A Symptom Of The Whole Horrid Business Of Human Behavior, And Cannot Be Isolated. And That, Even If We Abolish War, We Shall Not Abolish Hate And Greed. So Might It Have Been Argued About Slave Emancipation, That Slavery Was But One Aspect Of Human Disgustingness, And That To Abolish It Would Not End The Barbarity That Causes It. But Did The Abolitionists Therefore Waste Their Breath? And Do We Waste Ours Now In Protesting Against War?