When A Man Wantonly Destroys One Of

The Snow Itself Is Lonely Or, If You Prefer, Self-sufficient. There Is No Other Time When The Whole World Seems Composed Of One Thing And One Thing Only.

A Tragic Writer Does Not Have To Believe In God, But He Must Believe In Man.

How Anyone Can Profess To Find Animal Life Interesting And Yet Take Delight In Reducing The Wonder Of Any Animal To A Bloody Mass Of Fur Or Feathers?

Perhaps We Are Wiser, Less Foolish And More Far-seeing Than We Were Two Hundred Years Ago. But We Are Still Imperfect In All These Things, And Since The Turn Of The Century It Has Been Remarked That Neither Wisdom Nor Virtue Have Increased As Rapidly As The Need For Both.

An Abundance Of Some Good Things Is Perfectly Compatible With The Scarcity Of Others; That Life Is Everywhere Precarious, Man Everywhere Small.