Every Man Is An Omnibus In Which

Research And Writing Are Lonely Occupations. It Is Easy To Become Discouraged In Solitary Confinement.

Nothing Is So Commonplace Has The Wish To Be Remarkable.

We Should Be Eternally Vigilant Against Attempts To Check The Expression Of Opinions That We Loathe.

Our Morality Seems To Be Only A Check On The Ultimate Domination Of Force, Just As Our Politeness Is A Check On The Impulse Of Every Pig To Put His Feet In The Trough.

There Is Nothing Like The Dead Cold Hand Of The Past To Take Down Our Tumid Egotism And Lead Us Into The Solemn Flow Of The Life Of Our Race.