Irony Is The Attendant Of Hope And

"those Who Fought Know A Secret About Themselves, And It Is Not Very Nice." ... They Have Experienced Secretly And Privately Their Natural Human Impulse Toward Sadism And Brutality... Not Merely Did I Learn To Kill With A Noose Of Piano Wire Put Around Somebody's Neck From Behind, But I Learned To Enjoy The Prospect Of Killing That Way.

The Middles Cleave To Euphemisms Not Just Because They're An Aid In Avoiding Facts. They Like Them Also Because They Assist Their Social Yearnings Towards Pomposity. This Is Possible Because Most Euphemisms Permit The Speaker To Multiply Syllables, And The Middle Class Confuses Sheer Numerousness With Weight And Value.

All The Pathos And Irony Of Leaving One's Youth Behind Is Thus Implicit In Every Joyous Moment Of Travel: One Knows That The First Joy Can Never Be Recovered, And The Wise Traveller Learns Not To Repeat Successes But Tries New Places All The Time.

Anyone Telling About His Travels Must Be A Liar, . . . For If A Traveler Doesn't Visit His Narrative With The Spirit And Techniques Of Fiction, No One Will Want To Hear It.

The Worst Thing About War Was The Sitting Around And Wondering What You Were Doing Morally.