If The English Can Survive

Gentle Jesus, Meek And Mild' Is A Snivelling Modern Invention, With No Warrant In The Gospels.

If You Lived In London, Where The Whole System Is One Of False Good-fellowship, And You May Know A Man For Twenty Years Without Finding Out That He Hates You Like Poison, You Would Soon Have Your Eyes Opened. There We Do Unkind Things In A Kind Way: We Say Bitter Things In A Sweet Voice: We Always Give Our Friends Chloroform When We Tear Them To Pieces.

This Is The True Joy In Life: Being Used For A Purpose Recognized By Yourself As A Mighty One, Being A Force Of Nature Instead Of A Feverish, Selfish Little Clod Of Ailments And Grievances, Complaining That The World Will Not Devote Itself To Making You Happy. I Am Of The Opinion That My Life Belongs To The Whole Community And As Long As I Live, It Is My Privilege To Do For It What I Can. It Is A Sort Of Splendid Torch Which I Have Got Hold Of For The Moment And I Want To Make It Burn As Brightly As Possible Before Handing It On To Future Generations.

The More Ignorant Men Are, The More Convinced Are They That Their Little Parish And Their Little Chapel Is An Apex To Which Civilization And Philosophy Has Painfully Struggled Up The Pyramid Of Time From A Desert Of Savagery.

Nobody Can Live In Society Without Conventions. The Reason Why Sensible People Are As Conventional As They Can Bear To Be Is That Conventionality Saves So Much Time And Thought And Trouble And Social Friction Of One Sort Or Another That It Leaves Them Much More Leisure Time For Freedom Than Unconventionality Does.