It Is Probably True To Say That

I Wish Those People Who Write So Glibly About This Being A Holy War And The Orators Who Talk So Much About Going On, No Matter How Long The War Lasts And What It May Mean, Could See A Case Of Musterd Gas - The Poor Things Burnt And Blistered All Over With Great Musterd Coloured Suppurating Blisters, With Blind Eyes, All Sticky And Stuck Together, And Always Fighting For Breath, With Voices A Mere Whisper, Saying Their Throats Are Closing And They Know They Will Choke.

It Is Probably True To Say That The Largest Scope For Change Still Lies In Men's Attitude To Women, And In Women's Attitude To Themselves.

For A Woman As For A Man, Marriage Might Enormously Help Or Devastatingly Hinder The Growth Of Her Power To Contribute Something Impersonally Valuable To The Community In Which She Lived, But It Was Not That Power, And Could Not Be Regarded As An End In Itself. Nor, Even, Were Children Ends In Themselves; It Was Useless To Go On Producing Human Beings Merely In Order That They, In Their Sequence, Might Produce Others, And Never Turn From This Business Of Continuous Procreation To The Accomplishment Of Some Definite And Lasting Piece Of Work.

Few Things Are More Rewarding Than A Child's Open Uncalculating Devotion.

Belated Maternity Has Had Its Compensations; Small Children Have A Habit Of Conferring Persistent Youth Upon Their Parents, And By Their Eager Vitality Postpone The Unenterprising Cautions And Timidities Of Middle Age.