Diplomacy Is A Disguised War, In Which

No Matter What We Have Come Through, Or How Many Perils We Have Safely Passed, Or How Many Imperfect And Jagged - In Some Places Perhaps Irreparably - Our Life Has Been, We Cannot In Our Heart Of Hearts Imagine How It Could Have Been Different. As We Look Back On It, It Slips In Behind Us In Orderly Array, And, With All Its Mistakes, Acquires A Sort Of Eternal Fitness, And Even, At Times, Of Poetic Glamour.

A Man With Few Friends Is Only Half-developed; There Are Whole Sides Of His Nature Which Are Locked Up And Have Never Been Expressed. He Cannot Unlock Them Himself, He Cannot Even Discover Them; Friends Alone Can Stimulate Him And Open Him.

With The Shock Of War The State Comes Into Its Own Again.

War Is The Health Of The State. It Automatically Sets In Motion Throughout Society These Irresistible Forces For Uniformity, For Passionate Cooperation With The Government In Coercing Into Obedience The Minority Groups And Individuals Which Lack The Larger Herd Sense.

Diplomacy Is A Disguised War, In Which States Seek To Gain By Barter And Intrigue, By The Cleverness Of Arts, The Objectives Which They Would Have To Gain More Clumsily By Means Of War.