The One Thing That Can Be More

I Love America, But I Don't Like It.

A Village In A Country Which Is Taking Pains To Become Altogether Standardized And Pure, Which Aspires To Succeed Victorian England As The Chief Mediocrity Of The World, Is No Longer Merely Provincial, No Longer Downy And Restful In Its Leaf-shadowed Ignorance. It Is A Force Seeking To Conquer The Earth. Sure Of Itself, It Bullies Other Civilizations, As A Traveling Salesman In A Brown Derby Conquers The Wisdom Of China And Tacks Advertisements Of Cigarettes Over Arches For Centuries Dedicated To The Sayings Of Confucius.

People Will Buy Anything That Is One To A Customer.

So Much In A Revolution Is Nothing But Waiting.

The Greatest Mystery About A Human Being Is Not His Reaction To Sex Or Praise, But The Manner In Which He Contrives To Put In Twenty-four Hours A Day. It Is This Which Puzzles The Longshoreman About The Clerk, The Londoner About The Bushman.