The Secret Of Success Is To Be

Like Those Crabs Which Dress Themselves With Seaweed, We Wear Belief And Custom.

We Are All Serving A Life Sentence In The Dungeon Of The Self.

An Author Arrives At A Good Style When His Language Performs What Is Required Of It Without Shyness.

We Create The World In Which We Live; If That World Becomes Unfit For Human Life, It Is Because We Tire Of Our Responsibility.

There Is Immunity In Reading, Immunity In Formal Society, In Office Routine, In The Company Of Old Friends And In The Giving Of Officious Help To Strangers, But There Is No Sanctuary In One Bed From The Memory Of Another. The Past With Its Anguish Will Break Through Every Defense-line Of Custom And Habit; We Must Sleep And Therefore We Must Dream.