People in a hurry cannot think, cannot grow, nor can they decay. They are preserved in a state of perpetual puerility.

Unless a man has talents to make something of himself, freedom is an irksome burden. Of what avail is freedom to choose if the self be ineffectual? We join a mass movement to escape individual responsibility, or, in the words of the ardent young Nazi, "to be free from freedom."

A ruling intelligentsia, whether in Europe, Asia or Africa, treats the masses as raw material to be experimented on, processed, and wasted at will.

We see through others only when we see through ourselves.

Action is at bottom a swinging and flailing of the arms to regain one's balance and keep afloat.

There is no telling to what extremes of cruelty and ruthlessness a man will go when he is freed from the fears, hesitations, doubts and the vague stirrings of decency that go with individual judgment.

Somewhere between the Angels and the French lies the rest of humanity.