Poets, When They Write Of Love, Give

Luck Enters Into Every Contingency. You Are A Fool If You Forget It -- And A Greater Fool If You Count Upon It.

It Is You Men Who Make War! ... We, Who Have Children, Would Never Make It! Why Should A Woman Be Broken Up In Pain, To Give Her Child Life, Only To See Him Carried Away From Her, To Make Food For Guns?

Curses Are Children Of Hate; They Belong To The Wrong Family! Prayers Are Better Than Curses!

Life Was A Series Of Messes, And One Spent One's Time Cleaning Them Up; If One Had Any Heart At All One Also Gave A Part Of One's Time To Cleaning Up Those Of Other People.

This Is The Real Tragedy Of Mankind, That Until Now The Spirit Of Man Has Not Been Able To Free Itself, Even Along The Path Of Its Own Development, From The Tentacles Of Self-deception.