There Is Nothing So Wrong In This

There's A Kind Of Permission For War Which Can Be Given Only By The World's Mood And Atmosphere, The Feel Of Its Pulse. It Would Be Madness To Undertake A War Without That Permission.

A Man's Name, Title, And Rank Are Artificial And Impermanent; They Do Nothing To Reveal What He Really Is, Even To Himself.

Education Makes Us More Stupid Than The Brutes. A Thousand Voices Call To Us On Every Hand, But Our Ears Are Stopped With Wisdom.

To Make Ourselves Invisible To Creditors Or To The Envious, And Even To Our Own Worries, We Can Take Advantage Here On Earth Of A Great Democratic Institution-in Fact, Democracy's Only Success-the Night.

Who Would Prefer Peace To The Glory Of Hunger And Thirst, Of Wading Through Mud, And Dying In The Service Of One's Country?