War Is The Health Of The State.

No Matter What We Have Come Through, Or How Many Perils We Have Safely Passed, Or How Many Imperfect And Jagged - In Some Places Perhaps Irreparably - Our Life Has Been, We Cannot In Our Heart Of Hearts Imagine How It Could Have Been Different. As We Look Back On It, It Slips In Behind Us In Orderly Array, And, With All Its Mistakes, Acquires A Sort Of Eternal Fitness, And Even, At Times, Of Poetic Glamour.

The Ironic Life Is A Life Keenly Alert, Keenly Sensitive, Reacting Promptly With Feelings Of Liking Or Dislike To Each Bit Of Experience, Letting None Of It Pass Without Interpretation And Assimilation, A Life Full And Satisfying - Indeed A Rival Of The Religious Life.

Culture, Like The Kingdom Of Heaven, Lies Within Us, And Not In Foreign Galleries And Books.

With The Shock Of War The State Comes Into Its Own Again.

All We Can Ever Do In The Way Of Good To People Is To Encourage Them To Do Good To Themselves.