We Are Neurotically Haunted Today By The

Along With Being Forever On The Move, One Is Forever In A Hurry, Leaving Things Inadvertently Behind-friend Or Fishing Tackle, Old Raincoat Or Old Allegiance.

The Materialistic Idealism That Governs American Life, That On The One Hand Makes A Chariot Of Every Grocery Wagon, And On The Other A Mere Hitching Post Of Every Star, Lets Every Man Lead A Very Enticing Double Life.

Ours Is The Country Where, In Order To Sell Your Product, You Don't So Much Point Out Its Merits As You First Work Like Hell To Sell Yourself.

There Seems To Be A Terrible Misunderstanding On The Part Of A Great Many People To The Effect That When You Cease To Believe You May Cease To Behave.

Ours Must Be The First Age Whose Great Goal, On A Nonmaterial Plane, Is Not Fulfillment But Adjustment; And Perhaps Just Such A Goal Has Served As Maladjustment's Weapon.