Politics Are Usually The Executive Expression Of

I Know Of No Place Where The Wind Can Be As Icy And The Damp So Penetrating As In Oxford Round About Easter Time.

There Is An Abiding Beauty Which May Be Appreciated By Those Who Will See Things As They Are And Who Will Ask For No Reward Except To See.

Few Things Are More Rewarding Than A Child's Open Uncalculating Devotion.

I Wish Those People Who Write So Glibly About This Being A Holy War And The Orators Who Talk So Much About Going On, No Matter How Long The War Lasts And What It May Mean, Could See A Case Of Musterd Gas - The Poor Things Burnt And Blistered All Over With Great Musterd Coloured Suppurating Blisters, With Blind Eyes, All Sticky And Stuck Together, And Always Fighting For Breath, With Voices A Mere Whisper, Saying Their Throats Are Closing And They Know They Will Choke.

For A Woman As For A Man, Marriage Might Enormously Help Or Devastatingly Hinder The Growth Of Her Power To Contribute Something Impersonally Valuable To The Community In Which She Lived, But It Was Not That Power, And Could Not Be Regarded As An End In Itself. Nor, Even, Were Children Ends In Themselves; It Was Useless To Go On Producing Human Beings Merely In Order That They, In Their Sequence, Might Produce Others, And Never Turn From This Business Of Continuous Procreation To The Accomplishment Of Some Definite And Lasting Piece Of Work.