Man's Love Is Of Man's Life A

It's Never Pleasant To Have One's Unquestioning Beliefs Put In Their Historical Context, As I Know From Experience, I Can Assure You.

Those Who Professed Themselves Unable To Believe In The Reality Of Human Progress Ought To Cheer Themselves Up, As The Students Under Examination Had Conceivably Been Cheered Up, By A Short Study Of The Middle Ages. The Hydrogen Bomb, The South African Government, Chioang Kaidick, Senator Mccarthy Himself, Would Then Seem A Light Price To Pay For No Longer Being In The Middle Ages.

With Some Exceptions In Science Fiction And Other Genres I Have Small Difficulty In Avoiding Anything That Could Be Called American Literature. I Feel It Is Unnatural, Not I Think Entirely Because It Uses A Language That Is Not Mine, However Closely Akin To My Own.

Only A World Without Love Strikes Me As Instantly And Decisively More Terrible Than One Without Music.

When I Find Someone I Respect Writing About An Edgy, Nervous Wine That Dithered In The Glass, I Cringe. When I Hear Someone I Don't Respect Talking About An Austere, Unforgiving Wine, I Turn A Bit Austere And Unforgiving Myself. When I Come Across Stuff Like That And Remember About The Figs And Bananas, I Want To Snigger Uneasily. You Can Call A Wine Red, And Dry, And Strong, And Pleasant. After That, Watch Out.