Everyone Needs Help From Everyone.

General, Your Tank Is A Powerful Vehicle It Smashes Down Forests And Crushes A Hundred Men. But It Has One Defect: It Needs A Driver.

Firebugs Dragging Their Gasoline Bottles Are Approaching The Academy Of Arts, With A Grin. And So, Instead Of Embracing Them, Let Us Demand The Freedom Of The Elbow To Knock The Bottles Out Of Their Filthy Hands. Even The Most Blockheaded Bureaucrat, Provided He Loves Peace, Is A Greater Lover Of The Arts Than Any So-called Art-lover Who Loves The Arts Of War.

Art And Science Coincide Insofar As Both Aim To Improve The Lives Of Men And Women. The Latter Normally Concerns Itself With Profit, The Former With Pleasure. In The Coming Age, Art Will Fashion Our Entertainment Out Of New Means Of Productivity In Ways That Will Simultaneously Enhance Our Profit And Maximize Our Pleasure.

We Often Do Not Know Ourselves The Grounds On Which We Act, Though Plain To Others.

I Was Called Up In The War And Sent To A Hospital. I Dressed Wounds, Applied Iodine, Gave Enemas, Did Blood Transfusions. If The Doctor Ordered: "brecht, Amputate A Leg!", I Would Reply, "certainly, Your Excellency!", And Cut Off The Leg. If I Was Told, "perform A Trepanning!" I Opened The Man's Skull And Messed About With His Brains. I Saw How They Patched Fellows Up, So As To Cart Them Back To The Front As Quickly As They Could.