Heaven Has No Favorites

... Clothes Sometimes Gave One More Of A Lift Than Any Philosophic Comforting.

The Crowd, Still Shouting, Gives Way Before Us. We Plough Our Way Through. Women Hold Their Aprons Over Their Faces And Go Stumbling Away. A Roar Of Fury Goes Up. A Wounded Man Is Being Carried Off.

My Rage Outweighs My Shame, As Always Happens When One Is Really Ashamed And Knows He Ought To Be.

You Take It From Me, We Are Losing The War Because We Can Salute Too Well.

Modesty And Conscientiousness Receive Their Reward Only In Novels. In Life They Are Exploited And Then Shoved Aside.