The Story Of The Human

Woe Betide The Leaders Now Perched On Their Dizzy Pinnacles Of Triumph If They Cast Away At The Conference Table What The Soldiers Had Won On A Hundred Bloodsoaked Battlefields.

I Feel Like An Aeroplane At The End Of Its Flight, In The Dusk, With The Petrol Running Out, In Search Of A Safe Landing.

He [president Franklin D. Roosevelt] Died In Harness, And We May Well Say In Battle Harness, Like His Soldiers, Sailors And Airmen Who Died Side By Side With Ours And Carrying Out Their Tasks To The End All Over The World. What An Enviable Death Was His.

The Malice Of The Wicked Was Reinforced By The Weakness Of The Virtuous.

I Was Shown A Picture By Cézanne Of A Blank Wall Of A House, Which He Had Made Instinct With The Most Delicate Lights And Colours.