... The Unarmed Power Of Naked Truth.

No Single Man Makes History. History Cannot Be Seen, Just As One Cannot See Grass Growing. Wars And Revolutions, Kings And Robespierres, Are History's Organic Agents, Its Yeast. But Revolutions Are Made By Fanatical Men Of Action With One-track Mind, Geniuses In Their Ability To Confine Themselves To A Limited Field. They Overturn The Old Order In A Few Hours Or Days, The Whole Upheaval Takes A Few Weeks Or At Most Years, But The Fanatical Spirit That Inspired The Upheavals Is Worshiped For Decades Thereafter, For Centuries.

A Conscious Attempt To Fall Asleep Is Sure To Produce Insomnia, To Try To Be Conscious Of One's Own Digestion Is A Sure Way To Upset The Stomach. Consciousness Is A Poison When We Apply It To Ourselves. Consciousness Is A Light Directed Outward. It's Like The Headlights On A Locomotive—turn Them Inward And You'd Have A Crash.

How Many Things In The World Deserve Our Loyalty? Very Few Indeed. I Think One Should Be Loyal To Immortality, Which Is Another Word For Life, A Stronger Word For It.

As For The Men In Power, They Are So Anxious To Establish The Myth Of Infallibility That They Do Their Utmost To Ignore Truth.

It Snowed And Snowed, The Whole World Over, Snow Swept The World From End To End. A Candle Burned On The Table; A Candle Burned.