The Alleged Short-cut To Knowledge, Which Is

This Is Pity,” He Thought, And Then He Lifted His Head In Wonder. He Thought That There Must Be Something Terribly Wrong With A World In Which This Monstrous Feeling Is Called A Virtue.

There Are No Contradictions. If You Find One, Check Your Premises.

Never Think Of Pain Or Danger Or Enemies A Moment Longer Than Is Necessary To Fight Them.

Every Movement That Seeks To Enslave A Country, Every Dictatorship Or Potential Dictatorship, Needs Some Minority Group As A Scapegoat Which It Can Blame For The Nation's Troubles And Use As A Justification Of Its Own Demands For Dictatorial Powers. In Soviet Russia, The Scapegoat Was The Bourgeoisie; In Nazi Germany, It Was The Jewish People; In America, It Is The Businessmen.

Then No Rightful Cause Was Left, And The Pain Of Anger Was Turning Into The Shameful Pain Of Submission. He Had No Right To Condemn Anyone - He Thought - To Denounce Anything, To Fight And Die Joyously, Claiming The Sanctity Of Virtue. The Broken Promises, The Unconfessed Desires, The Betrayal, The Deceit, The Lies, The Fraud - He Was Guilty Of Them All. What Form Of Corruption Could He Scorn? Degrees Do Not Matter, He Thought; One Does Not Bargain About Inches Of Evil.