Human nature (n.) does not change like fashions: the further back we look, the less different man turns out to be.
Human nature (n.) hides demons — disbelief in its devilishness goes hand in hand with blank incomprehension of religion.
Human nature (n.) is simply what it is, with its dark and its light sides; only an incorrigible idealist could call the whole of it beautiful — the sum of all colours is grey.
Human nature (n.) bears an unending conflict between ego and instinct — the ego all barriers, instinct limitless, both of equal might.
Human nature (n.) can do endless evil, and its evil deeds are every bit as real as its good ones.
Human nature (n.) is duplex, though we go on thinking and acting as if we were simplex — innocuous, reasonable, humane, never distrusting our motives.
Human nature (n.) has a dignity God marvellously created, in the words of the Offertory — no sign of the unworthy sinful man Protestantism so often slandered; if God deigned to share our nature, man may deem himself worthy to share his.