A Man Of Courage Never Needs Weapons,

In Its Revolt Against Congestion And Sordor, A Space-hungry Generation Has, I Fear, Developed Eyes That Are Bigger Than Its Stomach.

Geneva Has The Sleepy Tidiness Of A Man Who Combs His Hair While Yet In His Pyjamas.

What Plethora Of Material Goods Can Possibly Atone For A Waking Life So Humanly Belittling, If Not Degrading, As The Push-button Tasks Left To Human Performers?

If We Never Met Again In Our Lives I Should Feel That Somehow The Whole Adventure Of Existence Was Justified By My Having Met You.

I Would Die Happy If I Knew That On My Tombstone Could Be Written These Words, "this Man Was An Absolute Fool. None Of The Disastrous Things That He Reluctantly Predicted Ever Came To Pass!"