All men are equal — all men, that is to say, who possess umbrellas.

You talk as if a god had made the Machine," cried the other. "I believe that you pray to it when you are unhappy. Men made it, do not forget that. Great men, but men. The Machine is much, but not everything.

One of the evils of money is that it tempts us to look at it rather than at the things that it buys.

I have no mystic faith in the people. I have in the individual.

But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had over-reached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.

Give, do not lend; after death who will thank you?

Reverence is fatal to literature.