The Barbarians Come Out At

Anyone Who Says That Life Matters Less To An Animal Than It Does To Us Has Not Held In His Hands An Animal Fighting For Its Life. The Whole Of The Being Of The Animal Is Thrown Into That Fight, Without Reserve. When You Say That The Fight Lacks A Dimension Of Intellectual Or Imaginative Horror, I Agree. It Is Not The Mode Of Being Animals To Have An Intellectual Horror: Their Whole Being Is In The Living Flesh...i Urge You To Walk, Flank To Flank, Beside The Beast That Is Prodded Down The Chute To His Executioner.

He Even Knew The Reason Why: Because Enough Men Had Gone Off To War Saying The Time For Gardening Was When The War Was Over; Whereas There Must Be Men To Stay Behind And Keep Gardening Alive, Or At Least The Idea Of Gardening; Because Once That Cord Was Broken, The Earth Would Grow Hard And Forget Her Children. That Was Why.

The End Of Confession Is To Tell The Truth To And For Oneself.

One Day Some As Yet Unborn Scholar Will Recognize In The Clock The Machine That Has Tamed The Wilds.

In A World Of Chance Is There A Better And A Worse? We Yield To A Stranger's Embrace Or Give Ourselves To The Waves; For The Blink Of An Eyelid Our Vigilance Relaxes; We Are Asleep; And When We Awake, We Have Lost The Direction Of Our Lives. What Are These Blinks Of An Eyelid, Against Which The Only Defence Is An Eternal And Inhuman Wakefulness? Might They Not Be The Cracks And Chinks Through Which Another Voice, Other Voices, Speak In Our Lives? By What Right Do We Close Our Ears To Them? (susan Barton)