The man who is denied the opportunity of taking decisions of importance begins to regard as important the decisions he is allowed to take. He becomes fussy about filing, keen on seeing that pencils are sharpened, eager to ensure that the windows are open (or shut) and apt to use two or three different-colored inks.

Perfection of planned layout is achieved only by institutions on the point of collapse.

The man whose life is devoted to paperwork has lost the initiative. He is dealing with things that are brought to his notice, having ceased to notice anything for himself.

Perfection of planning is a symptom of decay. During a period of exciting discovery or progress, there is no time to plan the perfect headquarters.

The nice thing about standards is, there are so many to choose from. Work expands to fill the time available for its completion.

The chief product of an automated society is a widespread and deepening sense of boredom.

It is the busiest man who has time to spare.