A Quote by Henry Arthur Jones

If there is one beast in all the loathsome fauna of civilization I hate and despise it is a man of the world. — © Henry Arthur Jones
If there is one beast in all the loathsome fauna of civilization I hate and despise it is a man of the world.
It may be important to great thinkers to examine the world, to explain and despise it. But I think it is only important to love the world, not to despise it, not for us to hate each other, but to be able to regard the world and ourselves and all beings with love, admiration and respect.
For the world is broken, sundered, busted down the middle, self ripped from self and man pasted back together as mythical monster, half angel, half beast, but no man...Some day a man will walk into my office as a ghost or beast or ghost-beast and walk out as a man, which is to say sovereign wanderer, lordly exile, worker and waiter and watcher.
Hate does not present many choices; if hate is your solution, you are fairly certain to hate all phemonena with equal joy and intensity, without troubling to drag into prominence any one feature from the loathsome whole.
This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of herd life, the military system, which I abhor... This plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed. Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism -- how passionately I hate them!
Sadly, I hate foreigners. And Americans. And animals. And flora, and some fauna. Also the magma that is the very core of this our mother earth. I'm full o' hate!
Beast?" Jane murmured. "Then God make me a beast; for, man or beast, I am yours.
Superstition changes a man to a beast, fanaticism makes him a wild beast, and despotism a beast of burden.
A beast does not know that he is a beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast, the less he knows it.
You despise a man for avarice; but you do not hate him.
I have nothing to make me miserable," she said, getting calmer; "but can you understand that everything has become hateful, loathsome, coarse to me, and I myself most of all? You can't imagine what loathsome thoughts I have about everything." "Why, whatever loathsome thoughts can you have?" asked Dolly, smiling. "The most utterly loathsome and coarse; I can't tell you. It's not unhappiness, or low spirits, but much worse. As though everything that was good in me was all hidden away, and nothing was left but the most loathsome.
And this is the ultimate lesson that our knowledge of the mode of transmission of typhus has taught us: Man carries on his skin a parasite, the louse. Civilization rids him of it. Should man regress, should he allow himself to resemble a primitive beast, the louse begins to multiply again and treats man as he deserves, as a brute beast. This conclusion would have endeared itself to the warm heart of Alfred Nobel. My contribution to it makes me feel less unworthy of the honour which you have conferred upon me in his name.
A man without justice is a beast, and a man who would make himself a beast forgets the pain of being a man.
I'm not the most loathsome man in the world. I've dropped to number nine.
Never to despise in myself what I have been taught to despise. Nor to despise the other. Not to despise the it. To make this relation with the it: to know that I am it.
Further march of civilization seems to employ increasing domination of man over beast, together with a growingly humane method of using them.
There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs.
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