Fascism Is Capitalism Plus Murder.

It Was All So Very Businesslike That One Watched It Fascinated. It Was Pork-making By Machinery, Pork-making By Applied Mathematics. And Yet Somehow The Most Matter-of-fact Person Could Not Help Thinking Of The Hogs; They Were So Innocent, They Came So Very Trustingly; And They Were So Very Human In Their Protests - And So Perfectly Within Their Rights! They Had Done Nothing To Deserve It; And It Was Adding Insult To Injury, As The Thing Was Done Here, Swinging Them Up In This Cold-blooded, Impersonal Way, Without Pretence At Apology, Without The Homage Of A Tear.

In A Society Dominated By The Fact Of Commercial Competition, Money Is Necessarily The Test Of Prowess, And Wastefulness The Sole Criterion Of Power.

Man Is An Evasive Beast, Given To Cultivating Strange Notions About Himself. He Is Humiliated By His Simian Ancestry, And Tries To Deny His Animal Nature, To Persuade Himself That He Is Not Limited By Its Weaknesses Nor Concerned In Its Fate. And This Impulse May Be Harmless, When It Is Genuine. But What Are We To Say When We See The Formulas Of Heroic Self-deception Made Use Of By Unheroic Self-indulgence?

The Proletarian Writer Is A Writer With A Purpose; He Thinks No More Of Art For Art's Sake Than A Man On A Sinking Ship Thinks Of Painting A Beautiful Picture In The Cabin; He Thinks Of Getting Ashore - And Then There Will Be Time Enough For Art.

Wall Street Had Been Doing Business With Pieces Of Paper; And Now Someone Asked For A Dollar, And It Was Discovered That The Dollar Had Been Mislaid.