My Books, At Any Rate, Deserved To

And If You Ask Again Whether There Is Any Justice In The World, You'll Have To Be Satisfied With The Reply: Not For The Time Being; At Any Rate, Not Up To This Friday.

The Cities Are The Principal Home And Seat Of The Human Group. They Are The Coral Colony For Man, The Collective Being.

I Read Like The Flame Reads The Wood.

My Books, At Any Rate, Deserved To Be Burned.

Revolution? Unscrew The Flag-staff, Wrap The Bunting In The Oil Covers, And Put The Thing In The Clothes-chest. Let The Old Lady Bring You Your House-slippers And Untie Your Fiery Red Necktie. You Always Make Revolutions With Your Mugs, Your Republic--nothing But An Industrial Accident.