We Should Never Be At The Mercy

Babies Are A Nuisance, Of Course. But So Does Everything Seem To Be That Is Worth While – Husbands And Books And Committees And Being Loved And Everything. We Have To Choose Between Barren Ease And Rich Unrest – Or Rather, One Does Not Choose.

The Pacifist's Task Today Is To Find A Method Of Helping And Healing Which Provides A Revolutionary Constructive Substitute For War.

I Know Of No Place Where The Wind Can Be As Icy And The Damp So Penetrating As In Oxford Round About Easter Time.

Nevertheless, Hateful As Saying 'no' Always Is To An Imaginative Person, And Certain As The Offence May Be That It Will Cause To Individuals Whose Own Work Does Not Require Isolated Effort, The Writer Who Is Engaged On A Book Must Learn To Say It. He Must Say It Consistently To All Interrupters; To The Numerous Callers And Correspondents Who Want Him To Speak, Open Bazaars, See Them For 'only' Ten Minutes, Attend Literary Parties, Put People Up, Or Read, Correct And Find Publishers For Semi-literate Manuscripts By His Personal Friends.

For A Woman As For A Man, Marriage Might Enormously Help Or Devastatingly Hinder The Growth Of Her Power To Contribute Something Impersonally Valuable To The Community In Which She Lived, But It Was Not That Power, And Could Not Be Regarded As An End In Itself. Nor, Even, Were Children Ends In Themselves; It Was Useless To Go On Producing Human Beings Merely In Order That They, In Their Sequence, Might Produce Others, And Never Turn From This Business Of Continuous Procreation To The Accomplishment Of Some Definite And Lasting Piece Of Work.