However Long We Have To Live, There

If This Were Fiction, Could Even The Most Brilliant Novelist Contrive To Make Credible So Short A Period In Which Pride Had Been Subdued And Prejudice Overcome?

We Are Often More Merciful To Our Animals Than We Are To Each Other.

A Letter Is Paradoxically The Most Revealing And The Most Deceptive Of Confessional Revelations. We All Have Our Inconsistencies, Prejudices, Irrationalities Which, Although Strongly Felt At The Time, May Be Transitory. A Letter Captures The Mood Of The Moment. The Transitory Becomes Immutably Fixed, Part Of The Evidence For The Prosecution Or The Defence.

Without The Hope Of Posterity, For Our Race If Not For Ourselves, Without The Assurance That We Being Dead Yet Live, All Pleasures Of The Mind And Senses Sometimes Seem To Me No More Than Pathetic And Crumbling Defences Shored Up Against Our Ruin.

[my Father And His Friends] Believed In Equality For Women Without Troubling To Acquire The Basic Domestic Skills Which Would Have Made That Equality Possible.