I am filled with hatred for money, for battleships, for industry, for factories, for the grind, grind, grind of the machine on all our creative instincts.

What does one do about the dead? They live forever.

Following the rise of the Labour Party it seemed reasonable, in 1927, to expect, or at least hope, that co-operation for the common good might gradually replace the competitiveness of capitalism.

There is no instinct that has been so maligned, suppressed, abused, and distorted by religious teaching as the instinct of sex.

I read recently in an article by G.K. Chesterton, that sex without gestation and parturition is like blowing the trumpets and waving the flags without doing any of the fighting. From a woman such words, though displaying inexperience, might come with dignity; from a man they are an unforgivable, intolerable insult. What is man's part in sex but a perpetual waving of flags and blowing of trumpets and avoidance of the fighting?

Humanity will ever seek but never attain perfection. Let us at least survive and go on trying.

Democracy can only spring from practising it early, and democratic action was not to expected from young people brought up under a close authoritarian system.