We are all familiar with the argument: Make war dreadful enough, and there will be no war. And we none of us believe it.

. . . early morning does not mince words . . .

And he continued to stare at her, afflicted by the thought that where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which, no doubt, was why so many people looked on it as immoral.

Matters change and morals change; men remain

A man of action, forced into a state of thought, is unhappy until he can get out of it

Life calls the tune, we dance.