The belief in the possibility of a short decisive war appears to be one of the most ancient and dangerous of human illusions.

The happiness even of the naturalist depends in some measure upon his ignorance, which still leaves him new worlds of this kind to conquer. He may have reached the very Z of knowledge in the books, but he still feels half ignorant until he has confirmed each bright particular with his eyes.

There are travelers who fear to own delicate hands more than to meet a lion, and soldiers who would rather lose a limb than gain a beautiful nose by artificial methods.

It is almost impossible to remember how tragic a place the world is when one is playing golf.

W. B. Yeats has created, if not a new world, a new star. He is not a reporter of life as it is, to the extent that Shakespeare or Browning is. One is not quite certain that his kingdom is of the green earth. He is like a man who has seen the earth not directly but in a crystal.

It may be that all games are silly. But then, so are humans.

The belief in the possibility of a short decisive war appears to be one of the most ancient and dangerous of human illusions.