When somebody persuades me I am wrong, I change my mind.

The love of money as a possession-as distinguished from the love of money as a means to the enjoyments and realities of life-will be recognized for what it is, a somewhat disgusting morbidity, one of those semi-criminal, semi-pathological propensities which one hands over with a shudder to the specialists in mental disease

In this autumn of 1919, in which I write, we are at the dead season of our fortunes.

The friends of gold will have to be extremely wise and moderate if they are to avoid a revolution.

The political problem of mankind is to combine three things: economic efficiency, social justice and individual liberty.

It would not be foolish to contemplate the possibility of a far greater progress still.

This siren, this goat-footed bard, this half human visitor to our age the hag-ridden and enchanted woods of Celtic antiquity. One catches in his company that flavour of final purposelessness, inner responsibility, existence outside or away from our Saxon good and evil, mixed with cunning, remorselessness, love of power.