There Comes A Time When Every Scientist,

A Man Who Lives With Nature Is Used To Violence And Is Companionable With Death. There Is More Violence In An English Hedgerow Than In The Meanest Streets Of A Great City.

Without The Hope Of Posterity, For Our Race If Not For Ourselves, Without The Assurance That We Being Dead Yet Live, All Pleasures Of The Mind And Senses Sometimes Seem To Me No More Than Pathetic And Crumbling Defences Shored Up Against Our Ruin.

We Are Often More Merciful To Our Animals Than We Are To Each Other.

Increase Your Word Power. Words Are The Raw Material Of Our Craft.

I Thought Of Inviting You To My Other Club But You Know How It Is. Lunching There Is A Useful Way Of Reminding People That You're Still Alive, But The Members Will Come Up And Congratulate You On The Fact.