... I Used Words Without

Mere Human Beings Cant Afford To Be Fanatical About Anything. Not Even About Justice Or Loyalty. The Fanatic For Justice Ends By Murdering A Million Helpless People To Clear A Space For His Law-courts. If We Are To Survive On This Planet, There Must Be Compromises.

Inevitably, The Flood Of Literary Pornography Loosed On Us Is Dulling Our Reactions Of Surprise Or Shock. Its Writers Are Forced To Raise The Ante, To Provide Stronger And Stronger Stimulants. Or Try To Provide Them, Since Both The Manner, The Naming Of Parts And The Few Inexpressive Four-letter Words, And The Matter, Are Narrowly Limited.

I Am Persuaded That Not A Novel In Ten Thousand Is Of Any Use To A Child To Fit Him For Life. The Most Are Of Use Only To Unfit Him -- To Blunt His Senses And Infect Him With The Writers' Poor Silly Sentiments. Nine Out Of Ten Novelists Deserve To Be Prosecuted Under An Adulterated Emotions Act.

Perhaps This Is In The End What Most Marriages Are - Gentleness, Memory, And Habit.

A Nation Has Honor Precisely As It Has Fleas - On This Or That Body. The Statesman Who Talks Of Honor - Unless He Means Something Else, Quite Different - Is A Rogue.