There Is As Much Vanity In Self-scourgings

War, For Any Cause, Is Inexcusable. There Is Nothing Which Excuses Us For The Beastly Ingenuity Of Our Wars. Only Fools, Only The Diseased, Think That We Are Served By Killing The Strong Young Men With Machines.

Is It Really Beyond Our Wits To Devise Some Form Of Censorship Which Would Trap Only The Crudely Sadistic?

The Gesture With Which One Generation Guards The Next Is The Movement, And The Only Time We See It Clearly, Of Life Itself.

An Intelligent Man Or Woman Willing To Make A Career Of Reviewing Fiction Is Hard To Come By ... And The Temporaries Do The Work Cheaply. Moreover, Continuity May Be Got At The Expense Of Intellectual Arthritis; A Reviewer Who Has Been At His Grisly Task For Half A Lifetime May Stiffen Into Prejudices Of Every Sort, And Become Too Anchylosed To Do Better Than Turn His Back To A New Wave When It Rushes Down On Him.

There Is As Much Vanity In Self-scourgings As In Self-justification.