Writing Is An Adventure.

In Hitler's Launching Of The Nazi Campaign Upon Russia We Can Already See, After Less Than Six Months Of Fighting, That He Made One Of The Outstanding Blunders Of History, And The Results So Far Realized Constitute An Event Of Cardinal Importance In The Final Decision Of The War.

History With Its Flickering Lamp Stumbles Along The Trail Of The Past, Trying To Reconstruct Its Scenes, To Revive Its Echoes, And Kindle With Pale Gleams The Passion Of Former Days. What Is The Worth Of All This? The Only Guide To A Man Is His Conscience; The Only Shield To His Memory Is The Rectitude And Sincerity Of His Actions. It Is Very Imprudent To Walk Through Life Without This Shield, Because We Are So Often Mocked By The Failure Of Our Hopes And The Upsetting Of Our Calculations; But With This Shield, However The Fates May Play, We March Always In The Ranks Of Honor.

Historians Are Apt To Judge War Ministers Less By The Victories Achieved Under Their Direction Than By The Political Results Which Flowed From Them. Judged By That Standard, I Am Not Sure That I Shall Be Held To Have Done Very Well.

I Am Fond Of Pigs. Dogs Look Up To Us. Cats Look Down On Us. Pigs Treat Us As Equals.

We Are Stripped Bare By The Curse Of Plenty. [referring To The Theory That Over-production Caused The Depression]