To ask the hard question is simple.

Slavery is so intolerable a condition that the slave can hardly escape deluding himself into thinking that he is choosing to obey his master's commands when, in fact, he is obliged to. Most slaves of habit suffer from this delusion and so do some writers, enslaved by an all too personal style.

A god who is both self-sufficient and content to remain so could not interest us enough to raise the question of his existence.

A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.

Health is the state about which medicine has nothing to say.

Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of year; When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went. He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation, And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had everything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

My face looks like a wedding-cake left out in the rain.