There Certainly Does Seem A Possibility That

The War Has Jerked Us Pretty Sharply Into Consciousness About This Slug-a-bed Sin Of Sloth, And Perhaps We Need Not Say Too Much About It. But Two Warnings Are Rather Necessary.

The Trouble Is. . .that Everybody Sneers At Restrictions And Demands Freedom, Till Something Annoying Happens; Then They Demand Angrily What Has Become Of The Discipline.

Philip Wasn't The Sort Of Man To Make A Friend Of A Woman. He Wanted Devotion. I Gave Him That. I Did, You Know. But I Couldn't Stand Being Made A Fool Of. I Couldn;t Stand Being Put On Probation, Like An Office-boy, To See If I Was Good Enough To Be Condescended To. I Quite Thought He Was Honest When He Said He Didn't Believe In Marriage -- And Then It Turned Out That It Was A Test, To See Whether My Devotion Was Abject Enough. Well, It Wasn't. I Didn't Like Having Matrimony Offered As A Bad-conduct Prize.

I'm Getting Very Old And My Bones Ache. My Sins Are Deserting Me, And If I Could Only Have My Time Over Again I'd Take Care To Commit More Of Them.

To The Average Man, Life Presents Itself, Not As Material Malleable To His Hand, But As A Series Of Problems...which He Has To Solve...and He Is Distressed To Find That The More Means He Can Dispose Of-such As Machine-power, Rapid Transport, And General Civilized Amenities, The More His Problems Grow In Hardness And Complexity....perhaps The First Thing He Can Learn Form The Artists Is That The Only Way Of 'mastering' One's Material Is To Abandon The Whole Conception Of Mastery And To Co-operate With It In Love: Whosoever Will Be A Lord Of Life, Let Him Be Its Servant.