What A Strange Distance There

There's Never Been A Lack Of Men Willing To Die Bravely. The Trouble Is To Find A Few Able To Live Sensibly.

[on Golf:] One Of The Most Distressing Defects Of Civilization.

We Are So Little, So Ignorant, So Feeble An Infant Race Crawling On A Planet Between Immensities We Haven't Even Begun To Understand, That Really We Have No Grounds For Either Congratulation Or Despair.

Why, Why, When One Writes, Does A Sort Of Shackle Bind One's Imagination? I Become Conscious Of A Deadening Mediocrity, Perhaps A Form Of Mental Cowardice, And I Long To Break Free, To Let My Imagination Take Wings. It Doesn't - Yet.

All Adventuring Is Rash, And All Innovations Dangerous. But Not Nearly So Dangerous As Stagnation And Dry Rot. From Grooves, Cliques, Clichés And Resignation - Good Lord Deliver Us!