The New Machiavelli

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Duffield, 1910 - 490 páginas
Shortly after writing this book, Wells abandoned writing science fiction for a series of comic novels and novels of lower-middle-class life. This book represents that transition in his life.

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Página 53 - And if there be no meeting past the grave, If all is darkness, silence, yet 'tis rest. Be not afraid, ye waiting hearts that weep, For God ' still giveth his beloved sleep,' And if an endless sleep he wills— so best" — will recognize that the agnostic man of science had much in common with the man of faith.
Página 121 - eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone ; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own ; 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful : 'e leaves 'em all about, An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less , All along of abby-nay^ kul?
Página 188 - My political conceptions were perfectly plain and honest. I had one constant desire ruling my thoughts. I meant to leave England and the empire better ordered than I found it, to organise and discipline, to build up a constructive and controlling State out of my world's confusions. We had, I saw, to suffuse education with public intention, to develop a new better-living generation with a collectivist habit of thought, to link now chaotic activities in every human affair, and particularly to catch...
Página 321 - Decent honest lives!" said Dayton to his breadcrumbs, with his chin in his necktie. "Waste!" "And the people who do get what we call opportunity get it usually in extremely limited and cramping forms. No man lives a life of intellectual productivity alone; he needs not only material and opportunity, but helpers, resonators. Round and about what I might call the real men, you want the sympathetic cooperators, who help by understanding. It isn't that our — salt of three or four thousand is needlessly...
Página 312 - We must believe, therefore, that it can develop such a training and education, or we must abandon secular constructive hope. And here my peculiar difficulty as against crude democracy comes in. If humanity at large is capable of that high education and those creative freedoms our hope demands, much more must its better and more vigorous types be so capable. And if those who have power and leisure now, and freedom to respond to imaginative appeals, cannot be won to the idea of collective self-development,...
Página 372 - She is no longer a mere physical need, an esthetic bye-play, a sentimental background; she is a moral and intellectual necessity in a man's life. She comes to the politician and demands, Is she a child or a citizen? Is she a thing or a soul? She comes to the individual man, as she came to me and asks, Is she a cherished -weakling or an equal mate, an unavoidable helper?
Página 7 - But the days of the Prince who planned and directed and was the source and centre of all power are ended. We are in a condition of affairs infinitely more complex, in which every prince and statesman is something of a servant and every intelligent human being something of a Prince.
Página 283 - London is the most interesting, beautiful, and wonderful city in the world to me, delicate in her incidental and multitudinous littleness, and stupendous in her pregnant totality: I cannot bring myself to use her as a museum or an old bookshop.
Página 304 - Liberal party is the party against "class privilege" because it represents no class advantages, but it is also the party that is on the whole most set against Collective control because it represents no established responsibility. It is constructive only so far as its antagonism to the great owner is more powerful than its jealousy of the state. It organises only because organisation is forced upon it by the organisation of its adversaries.
Página 72 - Marks, shindies, prayers and punishments, all flavoured with the leathery stuffiness of time-worn Big Hall. . . . And then out one would come through our grey .old gate into the evening light and the spectacle of London hurrying like a cataract, London in black and brown and blue and gleaming silver, roaring like the very loom of Time.

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