So The Blind Will Lead The Blind,

America Has An Almost Obscene Infatuation With Itself. Has There Ever Been A Big, Powerful Country That Is As Patriotic As America? And Patriotic In The Tinniest Way, With So Much Flag Waving? You'd Really Think We Were Some Poor Little Republic, And That If One Person Lost His Religion For One Hour, The Whole Thing Would Crumble. America Is The Real Religion In This Country.

A Political Convention Is After All Not A Meeting Of A Corporation's Board Of Directors; It Is A Fiesta, A Carnival, A Pig-rooting, Horse-snorting, Band-playing, Voice-screaming Medieval Get-together Of Greed, Practical Lust, Compromised Idealism, Career-advancement, Meeting, Feud, Vendetta, Conciliation, Of Rabble-rousers, Fist Fights (as It Used To Be), Embraces, Drunks (again As It Used To Be) And Collective Rivers Of Animal Sweat.

The Sense Of A Long Last Night Over Civilization Is Back Again; It Has Perhaps Not Been Here So Intensely In Thirty Years, Not Since The Nazis Were Prospering, But It Is Coming Back.

The Writer Can Grow As A Person Or He Can Shrink. ... His Curiosity, His Reaction To Life Must Not Diminish. The Fatal Thing Is To Shrink, To Be Interested In Less, Sympathetic To Less, Desiccating To The Point Where Life Itself Loses Its Flavor, And One’s Passion For Human Understanding Changes To Weariness And Distaste.

Love Asks Us That We Be A Little Braver Than Is Comfortable, A Little More Generous, A Little More Flexible. It Means Living On The Edge More Than We Care To.