Wars Are Made To Make Debt.

I Think An Alliance With Stalin's Russia Is Rotten.

This Is No Book. Whoever Touches This Touches A Man.

Haie! Haie! These Were The Swift To Harry; These The Keen-scented; These Were The Souls Of Blood. Slow On The Leash, Pallid The Leash-men!

There Is No Reason Why The Same Man Should Like The Same Books At Eighteen And At Forty-eight

Consider The Way Of The Scientists Rather Than The Way Of An Advertising Agent For A New Soap.