Distaste sounds more emphatic when expressed as moral disapproval. With most of us the moral counterblast is nothing more than the angry rendering of a yawn.

Persecution was at least a sign of personal interest.

By rights, satire is a lonely and introspective occupation, for nobody can describe a fool to the life without much patient self-inspection.

The world is a play that would not be worth seeing if we knew the plot.

As wounded men may limp through life, so our war minds may not regain the balance of their thoughts for decades.

We always carry out by committee anything in which any one of us alone would be too reasonable to persist.

Clever people seem not to feel the natural pleasure of bewilderment, and are always answering questions when the chief relish of a life is to go on asking them.