When The Typewriter Stops In A New

Love Is Cheap. You Can Buy It Anywhere. Lives Are Cheap. It's Money That's Dear. You Have To Work Days And Sit Up Nights Thinking How To Make Money.

One Of The Most Extraordinary Things About Industrial Society Of The Present Day Is Its Idiot Lack Of Memory. Tabloids And Movies Take The Place Of Mental Processes And Revolts, Crimes, Despairs Pass Off In A Dribble Of Vague Words And Rubber Stamp Phrases Without Leaving A Scratch On The Mind Of The Driven Instalment-paying, Subway-packing Mass.

A Curious Thing About Atrocity Stories Is That They Mirror, Instead Of The Events They Purport To Describe, The Extent Of The Hatred Of The People That Tell Them. Still, You Can't Listen Unmoved To Tales Of Misery And Murder.

People Do Not Choose A Career; The Career Envelopes Them.

It Is A Most Curious Experience For A Man Of Seventy-two To Be Confronted With The Greenhorn Enthusiasms Of His Youth. Young People Think They Are So Smart. Alas The Doctrines They Spout With Such Fervor Turn Out To Be Mostly Parroted From Their Elders.