Those Who Prepare For War

Progress? It Ought To Be Stopped, That's What I Say. If The Lord Meant Chickens To Come Out Of Incubators He'd Never Have Made Hens, It Stands To Reason.

Public Work Brings A Vicarious But Assured Sense Of Immortality. We May Be Poor, Weak, Timid, In Debt To Our Landlady, Bullied By Our Nieces, Stiff In The Joints, Shortsighted And Distressed; We Shall Perish, But The Cause Endures; The Cause Is Great.

Youth Knows No Remedy For Grief But Death.

If We Haven't A Grouch Against Fortune, We Seem Unable To Avoid One Against Ourselves.

Why, Why, When One Writes, Does A Sort Of Shackle Bind One's Imagination? I Become Conscious Of A Deadening Mediocrity, Perhaps A Form Of Mental Cowardice, And I Long To Break Free, To Let My Imagination Take Wings. It Doesn't - Yet.