... to be "literary" appeared to my deluded innocence as an unending romance.

What happens is not as important as how you react to what happens.

There is no support so strong as the strength that enables one to stand alone.

Do you know there is always a barrier between me and any man or woman who does not like dogs?

First, I was an idealist (that was early - fools are born, not made, you know); next I was a realist; now I am a pessimist, and, by Jove! if things get much worse I'll become a humorist.

What I hated even more than the conflict was the lurid spectacle of a world of unreason.

When this immediate evil power has been defeated, we shall not yet have won the long battle with the elemental barbarities. Another Hitler, it may be an invisible adversary, will attempt, again, and yet again, to destroy our frail civilization. Is it true, I wonder, that the only way to escape a war is to be in it? When one is a part of an actuality does the imagination find a release?