The Only Condition Of Peace In This

Pretty Much All The Honest Truth-telling There Is In The World Is Done By Children.

War? War Is An Organized Bore.

There Is Something Frightful In The Way In Which Not Only Characteristic Qualities, But Particular Manifestations Of Them, Are Repeated From Generation To Generation.

Detached Reflection Cannot Be Demanded In The Presence Of An Uplifted Knife.

Old Age Is Like An Opium Dream. Nothing Seems Real Except The Unreal.