'It is love and reason,' I said, 'fleeing from all this madness of war.'

In England we have come to rely upon a comfortable time-lag of fifty years or a century intervening between the perception that something ought to be done and a serious attempt to do it.

Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.

The science hangs like a gathering fog in a valley, a fog which begins nowhere and goes nowhere, an incidental, unmeaning inconvenience to passers-by.

The Jews looked for a special savior, a messiah, who was to redeem mankind by the agreeable process of restoring the fabulous glories of David and Solomon, and bringing the whole world at last under the firm but benevolent Jewish heel.

Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.

Bah! The thing is not a nose at all, but a bit of primordial chaos clapped on to my face.