Progress (n.) brings new times, new places, new arts, new men — and the same old tears and crimes, the oldest ill in new forms.
Progress (n.) pursued as a mania is the inevitable morbid compensation for the animal in us that fights novelty with all its instinctive conservatism and misoneism.
Progress (n.) has been harped on so long it sounds suspect: we need both civilization and culture, and too much of one always means too little of the other.
Progress (n.) piles up a gigantic Promethean debt paid off in hideous catastrophes: for ages man dreamed of flying, and all we got was saturation bombing.
Progress (n.) enforced by will is always convulsive; the progressive ideal is more abstract and less “moral” because it demands disloyalty to tradition.
Progress (n.) loses all meaning if man arrives at his new state as a fragment of himself, leaving his hinterland in the shadow — then he relapses into something worse than what he fled.
Progress (n.) can go downhill: against a dangerously rapid tempo, standing still can be a life-saver — the answer may be 'Hold fast!'
Progress (n.) always has its price, Jung warned: every good thing is bought with an evil at least as large, and few realize that each great advance is matched by an equal retreat.