There Is No Solution To Death.life Intends

But If It Ever Occurs To People To Value The Honor Of The Mind Equally With The Honor Of The Body, We Shall Get A Social Revolution Of A Quite Unparalleled Sort — And Very Different From The Kind That Is Being Made At The Moment.

If It Were Not For The War, This War Would Suit Me Down To The Ground.

Wimsey Stooped For An Empty Sardine-tin Which Lay, Horribly Battered, At His Feet, And Slung It Idly Into The Quag. It Struck The Surface With A Noice Like A Wet Kiss, And Vanished Instantly. With That Instinct Which Prompts One, When Depressed, To Wallow In Every Circumstance Of Gloom, Peter Leaned Sadly Against The Hurdles And Abandoned Himself To A Variety Of Shallow Considerations Upon (1) The Vanity Of Human Wishes; (2) Mutability; (3) First Love; (4) The Decay Of Idealism; (5) The Aftermath Of The Great War; (6) Birth-control; And (7) The Fallacy Of Free-will.

Fantasy Works Inwards Upon Its Author, Blurring The Boundary Between The Visioned And The Actual, And Associating Itself Ever Moreclosely With The Ego, So That The Child Who Has Fantasied Himself A Murderer Ends By Becoming A Loeb Or A Leopold. The Creative Imagination Works Outwards, Steadily Increasing The Gap Between The Visioned And The Actual, Till This Becomes The Great Gulf Fixed Between Art And Nature. Few Writers Of Crime-stories Become Murderers--if Any Do, It Is Not The Result Of Identifying Themselves With Their Murderous Heroes.

That There Is A Secret Itself Is A Secret.