It Is Man's Consolation That The Future

In The Twentieth Century War Will Be Dead, The Scaffold Will Be Dead, Hatred Will Be Dead, Frontier Boundaries Will Be Dead, Dogmas Will Be Dead; Man Will Live. He Will Possess Something Higher Than All These-a Great Country, The Whole Earth, And A Great Hope, The Whole Heaven.

Even The Darkest Night Will End And The Sun Will Rise.

Nothing Can Be More Depressing Than To Expose, Naked To The Light Of Thought, The Hideous Growth Of Argot. Indeed It Is Like A Sort Of Repellent Animal Intended To Dwell In Darkness Which Has Been Dragged Out Of Its Cloaca. One Seems To See A Horned And Living Creature Viciously Struggling To Be Restored To The Place Where It Belongs. One Word Is Like A Claw, Another Like A Sightless And Bleeding Eye; And There Are Phrases Which Clutch Like The Pincers Of A Crab. And All Of It Is Alive With The Hideous Vitality Of Things That Have Organized Themselves Amid Disorganization.

Sire, You Are Looking At A Plain Man, And I Am Looking At A Great Man. Each Of Us May Benefit.

But Alas, If I Have Not Maintained My Victory, It Is God's Fault For Not Making Man And The Devil Of Equal Strength.