Every Age Has A Keyhole To Which

Others Are To Us Like The Characters In Fiction, Eternal And Incorrigible; The Surprises They Give Us Turn Out In The End To Have Been Predictable And Unexpected Variations On The Theme Of Being Themselves.

Life Is A System Of Recurrent Pairs, The Poison And The Antidote Being Eternally Packaged Together By Some Considerate Heavenly Druggist.

The Strongest Argument For The Un-materialistic Character Of American Life Is The Fact That We Tolerate Conditions That Are, From A Materialistic Point Of View, Intolerable. ... No Nation With Any Sense Of Material Well-being Would Endure The Food We Eat, The Cramped Apartments We Live In, The Noise, The Traffic, The Crowded Subways And Buses. American Life, In Large Cities, At Any Rate, Is A Perpetual Assault On The Senses And The Nerves.

The Furniture And Trappings In The Apartment Are All In A State Of Flux - Here Today, Gone Tomorrow. Nothing Is Anchored To Its Place, Not Even The Coffee-pot, Which Floats Off And Returns, On The Tide Of The Signora's Marine Nature.

I Am For The Ones Who Represent Sense, And So Was Jane Austen.