There Is Only One World The World

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.

In France, Even Heresy Rapidly Hardens Into Dogma.

Novelists Who Treat Violence And Cruelty As Something To Be Exploited For Their Effect, Or To Enjoy The Pleasure Of An Evacuation, Are Carriers Of A Singularly Unpleasant Disease.

From So Much Of This Seriously-intended Pornography There Rises, Even When It Is Lewdly Or Boisterously Comic, The Acrid Smell, Unmistakable, Of Self-dislike.

The Hunger Of The Spirit For Eternity - As Fierce As A Starving Man's For Bread - Is Much Less A Craving To Go On Living Than A Craving For Redemption. Oh, And A Protest Against Absurdity.