Life Is A Maze In Which We

The Only Happy Talkers Are Dandies Who Extract Pleasure From The Very Perishability Of Their Material And Who Would Not Be Able To Tolerate The Isolation Of All Other Forms Of Composition; For Most Good Talkers, When They Have Run Down, Are Miserable; They Know That They Have Betrayed Themselves, That They Have Taken Material Which Should Have A Life Of Its Own, To Dispense It In Noises Upon The Air.

The One Way To Get Thin Is To Re-establish A Purpose In Life.

Hate Is The Consequence Of Fear; We Fear Something Before We Hate; A Child Who Fears Noises Becomes The Man Who Hates Them.

Those Of Us Who Were Brought Up As Christians And Have Lost Our Faith Have Retained The Sense Of Sin Without The Saving Belief In Redemption. This Poisons Our Thought And So Paralyses Us In Action.

Boys Do Not Grow Up Gradually. They Move Forward In Spurts Like The Hands Of Clocks In Railway Stations.