I have long come to believe that, more than any other destruction, our word-recklessness is endangering the future of us all.

The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence - free of the networks of dead speech.

Time is the sea in which men grow, are born, or die.

Generalizations, one is told, are dangerous. So is life, for that matter, and it is built up on generalization - from the earliest effort of the adventurer who dared to eat a second berry because the first had not killed him.

Few are the giants of the soul who actually feel that the human race is their family circle.

Words are the only arteries of thought our poor human body possesses.

Once divested of missionary virus, the cult of our gods gives no offence. It would be a peaceful age if this were recognized, and religion, Christian, communist or any other, were to rely on practice and not on conversion for her growth.