If Dogs Could Talk, Perhaps We Would

The Average Cooking In The Average Hotel For The Average Englishman Explains To A Large Extent The English Bleakness And Taciturnity. Nobody Can Beam And Warble While Chewing Pressed Beef Smeared With Diabolical Mustard. Nobody Can Exult Aloud While Ungluing From His Teeth A Quivering Tapioca Pudding.

A Short Life Is Better For Mankind, For A Long Life Would Deprive Man Of His Optimism.

Art Must Not Serve Might.

Nothing Is Stranger To Man Than His Own Image.

The Sole Perfection Which Modern Civilization Attains Is A Mechanical One; Machines Are Splendid And Flawless, But The Life Which Serves Them Or Is Served By Them, Is Neither Superb Nor Brilliant, Nor More Perfect Nor More Graceful; Nor Is The Work Of The Machines Perfect; Only They, The Machines, Are Like Gods.