He Who Can, Does. He Who Cannot,

All Autobiographies Are Lies. I Do Not Mean Unconscious, Unintentional Lies: I Mean Deliberate Lies.

You Can Be A Thorough-going Neo-darwinian Without Imagination, Metaphysics, Poetry, Conscience, Or Decency. For 'natural Selection' Has No Moral Significance: It Deals With That Part Of Evolution Which Has No Purpose, No Intelligence, And Might More Appropriately Be Called Accidental Selection, Or Better Still, Unnatural Selection, Since Nothing Is More Unnatural Than An Accident. If It Could Be Proved That The Whole Universe Had Been Produced By Such Selection, Only Fools And Rascals Could Bear To Live.

Human Misery Is So Appalling Nowadays That If We Allowed Ourselves To Dwell On It We Should Only Add Imaginary Miseries Of Our Own To The Real Miseries Of Others Without Doing Them Any Good.

A Soldier Is An Anachronism Of Which We Must Get Rid.

The Real Brahms Is Nothing More Than A Sentimental Voluptuary. Rather Tiresomely Addicted To Dressing Himself Up As Handel Or Beethoven And Making A Prolonged And Intolerable Noise.