One Should Never Write Down Or Up

In Ten Minutes They Will Have Arrived On Campus. George Will Have To Be George; The George They Have Named And Will Recognise. So Now He Consciously Applies Himself To Thinking Their Thoughts, Getting Into Their Mood. With The Skill Of A Veteran, He Rapidly Puts On The Psychological Makeup For This Role He Must Play.

These Books Have Not Made George Nobler Or Better Or More Truly Wise. It Is Just That He Likes Listening To Their Voices, The One Or The Other, Acording To His Mood. He Misuses Them Quite Ruthlessly - Despite The Respectful Way He Has To Talk About Them In Public - To Put Him To Bed, To Take His Mind Off The Hands Of The Clock, To Relax The Nagging Of His Pyloric Spasm, To Gossip Him Out Of His Melancholy, To Trigger The Conditioned Reflexes Of His Colon.

We Live In Stirring Times- Tea-stirring Times.

Berlin Is A Skeleton Which Aches In The Cold: It Is My Own Skeleton Aching. I Feel In My Bones The Sharp Ache Of The Frost In The Girders Of The Overhead Railway, In The Iron-work Of Balconies, In Bridges, Tramlines, Lamp-standards, Latrines. The Iron Throbs And Shrinks, The Stone And The Bricks Ache Dully, The Plaster Is Numb.

I Must Honor Those Who Fight Of Their Own Free Will, He Said To Himself. And I Must Try To Imitate Their Courage By Following My Path As A Pacifist, Wherever It Takes Me.