Belief in God may be an illusion; but it is an illusion that pays.

If belief in God is illusion, happy is he who is deluded!  He gains this world and thinks he will gain the next.

The disbeliever loses this world, and risks losing the next.

To be the centre of one’s universe is misery.  To have one’s universe centred in God is the peace that passeth understanding.

Greatness is founded on inward peace.

Energy is only effective when it springs from deep calm.

The pleasure of life lies in contrasts; the fear of contrasts is a chain that binds most men.

In the hour of danger a man is proven.  The boaster hides, and the egotist trembles.  He whose care is for others forgets to be afraid.

Men live for eating and drinking, passion and wealth.  They die for honour.

Blessed is he of whom it has been said that he so loved giving that he even gave his own life.

X

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS

III

SCENE. A trench unpleasantly near the firing line.  There has been an hour’s intense bombardment by the British, with suitable retaliation by the Boches.  The retaliation is just dying down.

CHARACTERS.  ALBERT—­Round-eyed, rotund, red-cheeked, yellow-haired, and deliberate; in civil life probably a drayman. JIM—­Small, lean, sallow, grey-eyed, with a kind of quiet restlessness; in civil life probably a mechanic with leanings towards Socialism. POZZIE—­A thick-set, low-browed, impassive, silent country youth, with a face the colour of the soil. JINKS—­An old soldier, red, lean, wrinkled, with very blue eyes.  His face is rough-hewn, almost grotesque like a gargoyle.  In his eyes there is a perpetual glint of humour, and in the poise of his head a certain irrepressible jauntiness.

ALBERT (whose eyes are more staring than ever, his cheeks pendulous and crimson, his general air that of a partly deflated air-cushion).  Gawd’s truth!

JINKS (wagging his head).  Well, my old sprig o’ mint, what’s wrong wi’ you?

ALBERT.  It ain’t right. (Sententiously) It’s agin natur’.  Flesh an’ blood weren’t made for this sort o’ think.

JIM.  It ain’t flesh an’ blood that can’t stand it.  It’s Mind.  Look at old Pozzie.  ‘E’s flesh an’ blood, and don’t turn an ’air!  For myself I’ll go potty one o’ these days.

JINKS (slapping POZZIE on the back).  You don’t take no notice, do you, old lump o’ duff?

POZZIE.  Oi woulden moind if I got moy rations; but a chap can’t keep a good ’eart if ’e’s got an empty stummick.

JIM (sarcastically).  You keep yer ’eart in yer stomach, don’t yer?  You ain’t got no mind, you ain’t.  Jinks was born potty, an’ the rest of us’ll all go potty except you.  It’s you an’ yer Ally Sloper’s Cavalry what’ll win the war, I don’t think!