What A Strange Distance There Is Between

Oh, Time Betrays Us. Time Is The Great Enemy.

Progress? It Ought To Be Stopped, That's What I Say. If The Lord Meant Chickens To Come Out Of Incubators He'd Never Have Made Hens, It Stands To Reason.

The World, With All Its Beauty And Adventure, Its Richness And Variety, Is Darkened By Cruelty. Death, If It Ends The Loveliness, The Adventure, Ends Also That. Death Balances The Picture.

This Alone Is To Be Feared - The Closed Mind, The Sleeping Imagination, The Death Of The Spirit. The Death Of The Body Is To That, I Think, A Little Thing.

Surely, If Life Is Good, It Is Good Throughout Its Substance; We Cannot Separate Men's Activities From Women's And Say, These Are Worthy Of Praise And These Unworthy.