The old game, I suspect, is beginning to play out, even in the Bible Belt.

THE OLDER I GROW, THE MORE I DISTRUST THE FAMILIAR DOCTRINE THAT AGE BRINGS WISDOM.

The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear - fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants beyond everything else is safety. H. L.

The opera is to music what a bawdy house is to a cathedral.

The penalty for laughing in a courtroom is six months in jail; if it were not for this penalty, the jury would never hear the evidence. H. L.

The public . . . demands certainties. . . . But there are no certainties.

The smallest atom of truth represents some man’s bitter toil and agony; for every ponderable chuck of it there is a brave truth-seeker’s grave upon some lonely ash-dump and a soul roasting in hell.

The theater, when all is said and done, is not life in miniature, but life enormously magnified, life hideously exaggerated.

The virulence of the national appetite for bogus revelation.

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.