The room was a little dark, it seemed to me,when I
went in. The face of the clock seemed abnormally pale; thehands too suffered from
some infirmity. We must help the youngEnglishmen to root out from themselves the
love of medals anddecorations.
Probably theraider was brought down behind the
hill. And one of the terms of peace, the loudspeakerssay, is to be
disarmament.
That is a thought that dampsthinking, and
encourages irresponsibility.
They are not the symptoms ofdeath in the least. If
you call three hundred pages on the evolution of the Elizabethansonnet an
accident.
I should explain that like so many people nowadays
I am pestered withquestions. These, I think are questions of the utmost importance
andinterest. It istrue I am a woman; it is true I am employed; but what
professionalexperiences have I had?
You are earning yourfive hundred pounds a year. It
could have been thickened and stiffened. Another sound begins sawing its way in the
brain. And there are a thousand voices prophesyingdespair. No more young men will be
trained tofight with arms. He strains todescribe; we strain to see; he flickers his
torch; we catch a flyinggleam.
Theinnocent sounds of the country are heard again.
They are not the symptoms ofdeath in the least.
But to continue the story of my professional
experiences.
Itis the desire for aggression; the desire to
dominate and enslave. The shadow of herwings fell on my page; I heard the rustling
of her skirts in the room.
He cleared his throat and thelecture began.
Outwardly, what obstacles are therefor a woman rather than for a man?
And for heavens sake, publish nothing before you
arethirty.
Itis the desire for aggression; the desire to
dominate and enslave. It is a sound that interrupts cool and consecutive thinking
aboutpeace.
It was so well printed, on such good paper. All
feeling, save one dull dread, ceased.