One Should Either Write Ruthlessly What One

When All Is Said, Its Atmosphere [england's] Still Contains Fewer Germs Of Aggression And Brutality Per Cubic Foot In A Crowded Bus, Pub Or Queue Than In Any Other Country In Which I Have Lived

Without The Hard Little Bits Of Marble Which Are Called 'facts' Or 'data' One Cannot Compose A Mosaic; What Matters, However, Are Not So Much The Individual Bits, But The Successive Patterns Into Which You Arrange Them, Then Break Them Up And Rearrange Them.

I Have Repeatedly Stressed That The Selfish Impulses Of Man Constitute A Much Less Historic Danger Than His Integrative Tendencies. To Put It In The Simplest Way: The Individual Who Indulges In An Excess Of Aggressive Self-assertiveness Incurs The Penalties Of Society-he Outlaws Himself, He Contracts Out Of The Hierarchy. The True Believer, On The Other Hand, Becomes More Closely Knit Into It; He Enters The Womb Of His Church, Or Party, Or Whatever The Social Holon To Which He Surrenders His Identity.

The Most Persistent Sound Which Reverberates Through Man's History Is The Beating Of War Drums.

The Creativity And Pathology Of The Human Mind Are, After All, Two Sides Of The Same Medal Coined In The Evolutionary Mint. The First Is Responsible For The Splendour Of Our Cathedrals, The Second For The Gargoyles That Decorate Them To Remind Us That The World Is Full Of Monsters, Devils, And Succubi.