Cunning Fox Quotes

What I wanted was to die among strangers, untroubled, beneath a cloudless sky. And yet my desire differed from the sentiments of that ancient Greek who wanted to die under the brilliant sun. What I wanted was some natural, spontaneous suicide. I wanted a death like that of a fox, not yet well versed in cunning, that walks carelessly along a mountain path and is shot by a hunter because of its own stupidity…

When the clergy addressed General Washington on his departure from the government, it was observed in their consultation that he had never on any occasion said a word to the public which showed a belief in the Christian religion and they thought they should so pen their address as to force him at length to declare publicly whether he was a Christian or not. They did so. However [Dr. Rush] observed the old fox was too cunning for them. He answered every article of their address particularly except that, which he passed over without notice... I know that Gouverneur Morris, who pretended to be in his secrets & believed himself to be so, has often told me that General Washington believed no more of that system than he himself did. {The Anas, February 1, 1800, written shortly after the death of first US president George Washington}

Once upon a time, there was a girl as cunning as the fox in winter, as hungry as the wolf at first frost, and as cold as the icy wind that kept them at each other's throats. Her name was not Gisele, nor was it Marthe, nor even Pfennigeist. My name was -is- Vanja. And this is the story of how I got caught.

The cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf.

Fox, you are the most cunning of all animals, you shall be general and lead us.

To make women learned and foxes tame has the same effect - to make them more cunning.

Special Forces guys were usually small. They were usually lean, fast, and whippy. Built for endurance and stamina and full of smarts and cunning. Like foxes, not like bears.

If they can’t make you bend to them, they will claim for making you stronger, the cunning foxes

An enraged man is a lion, a cunning man is a fox, a firm man is a rock, a learned man is a torch.

This vampire which is amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men, he is of cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages, he have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil in callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within his range, direct the elements, the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command all the meaner things, the rat, and the owl, and the bat, the moth, and the fox, and the wolf, he can grow and become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown.

Maks is as cunning as an arctic fox—skinny, ruthless, and charming when he wants to be. I’ve known him since he was fifteen years old—when he beat his step-father to death with a hammer and came to work for the Bratva instead.

There are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is one. There are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. It is the madness of folly, to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and we ought to guard equally against both.

They laugh at you because they don't have the capacity to fight with you

Rest now, in the peace of the wild things. May the swan be your pillow, may the gold owl bring you visions. May the red fox gift you cunning, and the wolf bring you courage. And may the white horse lend her strength to all your days.

The fox has a long history of magic and cunning associated with it. Because it is a creature of the night, it is often imbued with supernatural power. It is often most visible at the times of dawn and dusk, the “Between Times” when the magical world and the world in which we live intersect. It lives at the edges of forests and open land-the border areas. Because it is an animal of the “Between Times and Places,” it can be a guide to enter the Faerie Realm. Its appearance at such times can often signal that the Faerie Realm is about to open for the individual. In the Orient, it was believed that faxes were capable of assuming human form. In ancient Chinese lore, the fox acquires the faculty to become human at the age of 50, and on its hundredth birthday, it becomes either a wizard or a beautiful maiden who will ultimately destroy any man unlucky enough to fall in love with her. “There are several American Indian tribes that tell tales of hunters who accidentally discovered their wives were foxes.”52 This is very symbolic of the idea of magic being born within the feminine energies, and that unless a male can recognize the magic of the feminine-in himself or others-and learn to use it to shapeshift his own life, it will ultimately lead to destruction.

Weakness is a feeling of depletion, a constant draining of energy. There are countless ways that people experience and express feelings of weakness and depletion. It can manifest as the perpetual sense that tomorrow, or next year, things are going to get better—but they don’t. Being an adult without a direction or a sense of greater purpose is also a form of weakness. The face of weakness can appear as frustration, anger, isolation, or addiction. Weakness personified is a persistent and cunning thief, creeping into your life and the lives of your children masked as hope and constantly nagging, “Look at me, fix me, improve me, and then you will be happy.

We have no school for the turning-out of stanch men in this nineteenth century. In the old, earnest times, war made men stanch and true to each other. We have learned up a good many glib phrases about the wickedness of war, and we thank God that we live in these peaceful, trading times, wherein we can — and do — devote the whole of our thoughts and energies to robbing and cheating and swindling one another — to “doing” our friends, and overcoming our enemies by trickery and lies — wherein, undisturbed by the wicked ways of fighting-men, we can cultivate to better perfection the “smartness,” the craft, and the cunning, and all the other “business-like” virtues on which we so pride ourselves, and which were so neglected and treated with so little respect in the bad old age of violence, when men chose lions and eagles for their symbols rather than foxes.

When I look back on my life I realize I was very sick for a long time. Sitting here in good health, I find myself crying. I do that sometimes. I am very sensitive. My dear son Jayden, who many know as Fox0r Jr., inherited that trait from me. I see it in him already. Jaxson is confident. Owen is sweet and loving. He is also spry and cunning. Finley is bold. Finley is also a stirring and adventurous child. We have laughed together. We have cried together. We have smiled together. My sons, next to Jesus, are my greatest inspiration.

I have seen a large dog fox several times recently but it was a hot afternoon and no doubt, like most creatures, it was lying low in the shade. The fox has an unfortunate reputation. A crafty thief, often a charming one in fable and fairy story, its name is a byword for low (and occasionally high) cunning. A moral outlaw, a trickster and sometimes downright malevolent. The Christian Church often equated the fox with the devil. In many churches across the land you will find images of the fox in priestly robes preaching to a flock of geese. (There is a fine woodcut in the Cathedral at Ely.) The fox is a subtle outlaw, a devilish predator without conscience, and the geese a flock of innocents …

We have learned up a good many glib phrases about the wickedness of war, and we thank God that we live in these peaceful, trading times, wherein we can — and do — devote the whole of our thoughts and energies to robbing and cheating and swindling one another — to “doing” our friends, and overcoming our enemies by trickery and lies — wherein, undisturbed by the wicked ways of fighting-men, we can cultivate to better perfection the “smartness,” the craft, and the cunning, and all the other “business-like” virtues on which we so pride ourselves, and which were so neglected and treated with so little respect in the bad old age of violence, when men chose lions and eagles for their symbols rather than foxes.

An important and relevant question that the public has been asking is this: Is the man simply crazy, or is he crazy like a fox? Is he mentally compromised or simply vile? When he lies, does he know he is lying, or does he believe his own lies? When he makes wild accusations, is he truly paranoid, or is he consciously and cunningly trying to deflect attention from his misdeeds?

Miss Foxe's other passion was fairy tales. She loved the transformations in them. Everybody was in disguise, or on their way to becoming something else. And all was overcome by order in the end. Love could not prevail if the order of the tale didn't wish it, and neither could hatred, nor grief, nor cunning. If you were the first of three siblings, then you were going to make a big mistake, and that was that. If you were the third sibling, you couldn't fail.

Machiavelli wrote that if princes expect to prosper they must be both lions and foxes. He said they must be lions to drive away the wolves and foxes to avoid traps. But it is rare to find the lion and fox combined in one person. In wealthy, successful societies the elite begins (over time) to consist almost exclusively of foxes. Lions are effectively sidelined as they are perceived as a disruptive influence. Peaceful negotiation becomes the imperative. Fighting and confrontation is seen as negative. The foxes believe their way is best, that all conflicts can be resolved by negotiation and cunning – without the use of force.

Prince Edward’s cunning smile reminded Anastasia of a fox who had wormed his way into a hen house.

The Cunning Little Vixen, in which a fox is caught by a hunter and kept in a farmyard with the other animals. He keeps her because he loves her, despite the fact she is destructive, and there is a value for her too in his attention, though its consequence is her captivity. But her nature drives her to seek the wild, and one day she escapes the farmyard and finds her way back into the forest; but instead of feeling liberated she is terrified, for having lived in the farmyard most of her life she has forgotten how to be free.

Only Cassie had remained silent. She was looking dreamily off over the heads of the mall crowd. "You know, back in the old says - I mean, the real, real old days - the Africans, the early Europeans, the Native Americans... they all believed animals had spirits. And they would call on those spirits to protect them from evil. They would ask the spirit of the fox for his cunning. They'd ask the spirit of the eagle for his sight. They would ask the lion for his strength. I guess what we're doing is sort of basic. Even though it was Andalite technology that made it possible. We're still just scared little humans, trying to borrow the mind of the fox, and the eyes of the eagle... or the hawk," she added, smiling at Tobias. "And the strength of the lion. Just like thousands of years ago, we're calling on the animals to help protect s from evil." "Will their strength be enough?" wondered. "I don't know," Cassie admitted solemnly. "It's like all the basic forces of planet Earth are being brought into the battle." Marco rolled his eyes. "Nice story, Cassie. But we're five normal kids. Up against the Yeerks. If it was a football game, who would you bet on? We're toast." Don't be so sure," Cassie said. "We're fighting for Mother Earth. She was some tricks up her sleeves." "Good grief," Marco said. "Let's all buy Birkenstocks and go hug some trees." -Animorphs #1, The Invasion page 66

FOREWORD When Commander Perry opened up to the occidental world that shut-tight little island Kingdom, Japan, he did more than merely contact for our manufacturers a people who bought "Nifty Clothes," with two pair of pants. He gave us an insight into a world that was thoroughly organized and civilized long before Columbus discovered West where the East should have been. The Japanese learned much from the so-called civilized world, -but they taught us something we could never have learned from intercourse with any other nation. They gave our governmental forces of law and order a weapon that aided materially in the suppression of disorderly elements throughout our great cities. It took time, of course, to break down the prejudices that our early enforcement officers, in common with our then wild and wooly population, had against anything that was foreign. But when the great police forces of our largest metropolises realized that guns and billies alone would not be proof against big, burly lawbreakers, and that to instil respect in the hearts of "bruisers" they needed something other than armaments—pistols that could not be drawn fast enough,—they then discovered the wonder of Jiu-jitsu. They found that the wily little brown man depended on brain instead of brawn and that he had developed a Science and an Art that utilized another's strength to his own undoing. Strangely enough it was the layman who first appreciated the potential value of Jiu-jitsu. For many years before the Police Forces of our cities put a study of this Science into the training of every rookie policeman, there were physical culture experts in America who advocated the use of it by everyone who had any respect for physical prowess but who found the spirit more willing than the flesh. They showed that it needed no possession of unusual strength to overcome an opponent that depended entirely on his bulk and ferocious appearance to cow the meeker ones of the earth into submission. The Japanese, by the very fact of their small stature, are compelled to place more emphasis on strategy than on force. Thus they have thoroughly developed Jiu-jitsu and there is barely a saffron-hued tot in Japan that doesn't know something about the "Gentle-Art" as it is known. President Masaryk of Czechoslovakia, one of the world's greatest educators, who, together with millions of his enlightened and progressive countrymen, is a firm believer in "a strong mind in a strong body," sought to teach every schoolboy in his country some knowledge of the wisest of all physical sciences. While it does not itself develop and build muscle, it is an invaluable aid to the sensible use of the body. It is a form of wrestling that combines the cunning of the fox with the lithe grace and agility of the panther. It sharpens the brain and quickens the nerve centers. The man or woman who has self-respect must not sit by and permit our people to become a nation of spectators watching athletic specialists perform, while we become obese and ungainly applauders. Jiu-jitsu gives the man, woman and child, denied by nature a great frame, the opportunity to walk without fear, to resist successfully the bullies of their particular world, and the self-confidence which only a "well-armed" athlete can have. By its use, differences in weight, height and reach are practically wiped out, so that he who knows, may smilingly face superior odds and conquer.

I wouldn’t dare play dumb, not with such a cunning little fox, but you know, even the smartest of fox are eaten by the wolf. Is that what you want? To be my dinner? Do you want me to eat you, Drew?

Tatterfell sews on cunning cuffs made from the scales of pinecones around the edges of frayed sleeves. Small tears in skirts are stitched over with embroidery in the shape of leaves and pomegranates and- on one- a cavorting fox. She has stitched dozens of leather slippers for me. I will be expected to dance so fiercely that I wear through a pair every night.

took Luc over two years to get the permission he needed to leave the Shadow Army’s daily routine to become a scout among the humans. Two years of hard work, lying, bribing, cunning strategy, being in the right place at the right time, placing bets, making bargains, and giving away large promises. Two years before he made it to the human realm. And there, he had hoped to be free of fox games forever.

Now, all this time El-ahrairah was dancing and mating and boasting that he was going to Frith's meeting to receive a great gift. And at last he set out for the meeting place. But as he was going there, he stopped to rest on a soft, sandy hillside. And while he was resting, over the hill came flying the dark swift, screaming as he went, 'News! News! News!' For you know, this is what he has said ever since that day. So El-ahrairah called up to him and said, 'What news?' 'Why,' said the swift, 'I would not be you, El-ahrairah. For Frith has given the fox and the weasel cunning hearts and sharp teeth, and to the cat he has given silent feet and eyes that can see in the dark, and they are gone away from Frith's place to kill and devour all that belongs to El-ahrairah.' And he dashed on over the hills. And at that moment El-ahrairah heard the voice of Frith calling, 'Where is El-ahrairah? For all the others have taken their gifts and gone and I have come to look for him.' "Then El-ahrairah knew that Frith was too clever for him and he was frightened. He thought that the fox and the weasel were coming with Frith and he turned to the face of the hill and began to dig. He dug a hole, but he had dug only a little of it when Frith came over the hill alone. And he saw El-ahrairah's bottom sticking out of the hole and the sand flying out in showers as the digging went on. When he saw that, he called out, 'My friend, have you seen El-ahrairah, for I am looking for him to give him my gift?' 'No,' answered El-ahrairah, without coming out, 'I have not seen him. He is far away. He could not come.' So Frith said, 'Then come out of that hole and I will bless you instead of him.' 'No, I cannot,' said El-ahrairah, 'I am busy. The fox and the weasel are coming. If you want to bless me you can bless my bottom, for it is sticking out of the hole.

You allowed the girl to stay just long enough to ensure that Gareth would become enchanted with her — then, when he annoyed you, as he inevitably would, you sent her away. How very cruel, my friend!  To use the poor girl to punish your brother!  But no. That is not like you to be so heartless. Thus, I can only conclude that you are up to something, though what it could be, I have yet to fathom."  He shot Lucien a sideways glance. "Are you certain she's the one Charles was so smitten with?" Lucien was sitting back, smiling and idly watching the musicians. "Dead certain." "And the child?" "The spitting image of her father." "And yet you sent them away."  Fox shook his head. "What were you thinking of?" The duke turned his head, raising his brows in feigned surprise. "My dear Roger. You know me better than that. Do you think I would actually banish them?" "'Tis what your sister told me when I arrived." 'Ah, but 'tis what I want my sister to believe," he countered, smoothly. "And my two brothers — especially, Gareth."  He sipped his port, then swirled the liquid in the glass, studying it reflectively. "Besides, Roger, if you must know, I did not send the girl away — I merely made her feel so awkward that she had no desire to remain." "Is there a difference?" "But of course. She made the decision to leave, which means she maintains both her pride and a small modicum of respect, if not liking for me — which I may find useful at a future date. Gareth thinks I sent her away, which means he is perfectly furious with me. The result? She leaves, and he chases after her, which is exactly what I wanted him to do."  He chuckled. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall when he finds her and the two of them discover my hand in all this..." "Lucien, your eyes are gleaming with that cunning amusement that tells me you're up to something especially Machiavellian." "Is that so? Then I fear I must work harder at concealing the obvious." Fox gave him a shrewd look. "This is most confusing, as I'm sure you intend it to be. You know the child is Charles's and yet you will not acknowledge her ... and this after Charles expressly asked you to make her your ward?" "Really, Roger. There is no need to make the child my ward when Gareth, in all likelihood, will adopt her as his daughter." The barrister narrowed his eyes. "You have some superior, ulterior motive that evades us mere mortals." "But of course," Lucien murmured yet again, lifting his glass and idly sipping its dark liquid. "And perhaps you can explain it to this mere mortal?" "My dear Fox. It is quite simple, really. Drastic problems call for drastic solutions. By sending the girl away, I have set in motion my plan for Gareth's salvation. If things go as I expect, he will stay so furious with me that he will not only charge headlong to her rescue — but headlong into marriage with her." "Bloody hell!  Lucien, the girl's completely ill-suited for him!" "On the contrary. I have observed them together, Fox. They compliment each other perfectly. As for the girl, what she lacks in wealth and social standing she more than makes up for in courage, resolve, common sense, and maturity. Gareth, whether he knows it or not, needs someone just like her. It is my hope that she will — shall I say — reform him." Fox shook his head and bit into a fine piece of Cheshire. "You're taking a risk in assuming Gareth will even find her." "Oh, he'll find her. I have no doubt about that."  Lucien gestured for a footman, who promptly stepped forward and refilled his glass. "He's already half in love with her as it is. Gareth is nothing if not persistent." "Yes, and he is also given to rashness, poor judgment, and an unhealthy appetite for dissolute living." "Indeed. And that, my dear Fox, is exactly what I believe the girl will cure him of.

Some of the cunning you got, some of the mustard, some of the sense... well, you got it from me. Didn't you? So don't any of you go thinking you can be artful about this, because when it comes to cunning I am Mister Fox.

Diplomacy does not mean to become soft, but to be more cunning like a fox than the normal citizen. Killing two birds with one word.

So who was the fox?” “The cunning one who convinces the others that someone innocent is actually guilty. Blaming the victim.

THERE IS A LINE among the fragments of the Greek poet Archilochus which says: ‘The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.’2 Scholars have differed about the correct interpretation of these dark words, which may mean no more than that the fox, for all his cunning, is defeated by the hedgehog’s one defence. But, taken figuratively, the words can be made to yield a sense in which they mark one of the deepest differences which divide writers and thinkers, and, it may be, human beings in general. For there exists a great chasm between those, on one side, who relate everything to a single central vision, one system, less or more coherent or articulate, in terms of which they understand, think and feel – a single, universal, organising principle in terms of which alone all that they are and say has significance – and, on the other side, those who pursue many ends, often unrelated and even contradictory, connected, if at all, only in some de facto way, for some psychological or physiological cause, related to no moral or aesthetic principle. These last lead lives, perform acts and entertain ideas that are centrifugal rather than centripetal; their thought is scattered or diffused, moving on many levels, seizing upon the essence of a vast variety of experiences and objects for what they are in themselves, without, consciously or unconsciously, seeking to fit them into, or exclude them from, any one unchanging, all-embracing, sometimes self-contradictory and incomplete, at times fanatical, unitary inner vision. The first kind of intellectual and artistic personality belongs to the hedgehogs, the second to the foxes; and without insisting on a rigid classification, we may, without too much fear of contradiction, say that, in this sense, Dante belongs to the first category, Shakespeare to the second; Plato, Lucretius, Pascal, Hegel, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Ibsen, Proust are, in varying degrees, hedgehogs; Herodotus, Aristotle, Montaigne, Erasmus, Molière, Goethe, Pushkin, Balzac, Joyce are foxes.

Her tummy prickles. Magic lives in this wood. In the distance there will be dens and clearings and treehouses and narrow paths of golden light guarded by singing birds. Foxes, rabbits, badgers, maybe lions that have escaped from safari parks live here too. She feels small and frightened and excited in the way that makes her want to wee.

Foxes are tricky beasts. Cunning and sly, there’s more than what meets the eye. They hide in forests and mountaintops high. And before long, the hand which is held joins another. One man. One woman. And now. . . a new brother.

Long ago, the great Frith made the world. He made all the stars, and the Earth lived among the stars. He made all the animals and birds, and at first, he made them all the same. Now, among the animals in these days was El-Ahrairah, the prince of rabbits. He had many friends, and they all ate grass together. But after a time, the rabbits wandered everywhere, multiplying and eating as they went. Then Frith said to El-Ahrairah, 'Prince Rabbit, if you cannot control your people, I shall find ways to control them.' But El-Ahrairah would not listen. He said to Frith, 'My people are the strongest in the world.' This angered Frith, and he determined to get the better of El-Ahrairah. And so, he gave a present to every animal and bird, making each one different from the rest. When the fox came, and others, like the dog, and cat, hawk, and weasel, to each of them, Frith gave a fierce desire to hunt and kill the children of El-Ahrairah. Your people cannot rule the world, for I will not have it so. All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.

Remember that the threads of your ambition must be anchored in the real world. We know from “The Discourses,” a ruler must be both a lion and a fox, relying on both strength and cunning to navigate the treacherous terrain of power. Be prepared to adapt your strategies as circumstances dictate, and never shy away from employing deception or ruthlessness when they serve your cause.

Noble, honest, and fair people never cheat anyone, but they are cheated by cunning people as a fox.

Don’t judge people with their rude or impolite nature, sincere people wear their true nature, only cunning foxes like to cajole strangers , so my son please beware of the people who gives you false promises than people who are rude and impolite to you --From Spice trader of Muziris

The Young Tradition (1966) and its successor, So Cheerfully Round (1967), both released on Transatlantic, are rustic tapestries of ballads, carols and street cries from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; a parade of serving-maids, poachers, fishermen, cunning foxes, bold dragoons, pretty ploughboys and hungry children.

see or feel, these materialists argued, was made up of two things: atoms and space “in which these bodies are and through which they move this way and that.”31 Even living creatures were made from them: humans were, as one (hostile) author summarized, not made by God but were instead nothing more than “a haphazard union of elements.”32 The distinct species of animals were explained by a form of proto-Darwinism. As the Roman poet and atomist Lucretius wrote, nature put forth many species. Those that had useful characteristics—the fox and its cunning, say, or the dog and its intelligence—survived, thrived and reproduced. Those creatures that lacked these “lay at the mercy of others for prey and profit . . . until nature brought that race to destruction.”33

A cunning fox is better than a senseless leopard.

Moral questions immediately present themselves as questions whose solution cannot wait for sensible proof. A moral question is a question not of what sensibly exists, but of what is good, or would be good if it did exist. Science can tell us what exists; but to compare the worths, both of what exists and of what does not exist, we must consult not science, but what Pascal calls our heart. Science herself consults her heart when she lays it down that the infinite ascertainment of fact and correction of false belief are the supreme goods for man. Challenge the statement, and science can only repeat it oracularly, or else prove it by showing that such ascertainment and correction bring man all sorts of other goods which man's heart in turn declares. The question of having moral beliefs at all or not having them is decided by our will. Are our moral preferences true or false, or are they only odd biological phenomena, making things good or bad for us, but in themselves indifferent? How can your pure intellect decide? If your heart does not want a world of moral reality, your head will assuredly never make you believe in one. Mephistophelian skepticism, indeed, will satisfy the head's play-instincts much better than any rigorous idealism can. Some men (even at the student age) are so naturally cool-hearted that the moralistic hypothesis never has for them any pungent life, and in their supercilious presence the hot young moralist always feels strangely ill at ease. The appearance of knowingness is on their side, of naïveté and gullibility on his. Yet, in the inarticulate heart of him, he clings to it that he is not a dupe, and that there is a realm in which (as Emerson says) all their wit and intellectual superiority is no better than the cunning of a fox. Moral skepticism can no more be refuted or proved by logic than intellectual skepticism can. When we stick to it that there is truth (be it of either kind), we do so with our whole nature, and resolve to stand or fall by the results. The skeptic with his whole nature adopts the doubting attitude; but which of us is the wiser, Omniscience only knows.

To many intellectuals such as Celsus, the whole idea of a ‘Creation myth’ was not only implausible but redundant. During this period in Rome, a popular and influential philosophical theory offered an alternative view. This theory – an Epicurean one – stated that everything in the world was made not by any divine being but by the collision and combination of atoms. According to this school of thought, these particles were invisible to the naked eye but they had their own structure and could not be cut (temno) into any smaller particles: they were a-temnos – ‘the uncuttable thing’: the atom. Everything that you see or feel, these materialists argued, was made up of two things: atoms and space ‘in which these bodies are and through which they move this way and that’. Even living creatures were made from them: humans were, as one (hostile) author summarized, not made by God but were instead nothing more than ‘a haphazard union of elements’. The distinct species of animals were explained by a form of proto-Darwinism. As the Roman poet and atomist Lucretius wrote, nature put forth many species. Those that had useful characteristics – the fox and its cunning, say, or the dog and its intelligence – survived, thrived and reproduced. Those creatures that lacked these ‘lay at the mercy of others for prey and profit . . . until nature brought that race to destruction’.

One might ask how the French government became anti-French (and the U.S. Government became anti-American). The Italian political scientist, Vilfredo Pareto, had the answer. Pareto said that society is always ruled by an elite made up of two types: Lions and foxes. The lions are brave and the foxes are cunning. Everything goes well if the elite contains both types. However, if the lions are ostracized and the foxes begin dictating policy, everything becomes tainted with dishonesty, trickery, corruption, and cowardice; that is, the negative traits of the fox come into play and the system falls out of balance. That is, in fact, what has happened in the West.

Noble, honest, and fair people never cheat anyone, but they are cheated, by cunning people as a fox.

The truth is that the poor are as ravening wolves, as cunning as foxes and as lecherous as he-goats. I do not say this of all the poor but of a great many of them, for poverty never made any man better. It is easy not to tell lies when you are not afraid, not to steal when you are not hungry, But the person who acquires the habit of lying and stealing soon becomes like a beast. I have seen mothers sell their daughters. I have seen mothers abandon their newborn babes in the fields. I have seen men mutilate their children to make them better beggars. I have seen sons leave their aged fathers to starve because they themselves were hungry, and ten lepers band together to abduct and rape a girl, and great oafs steal alms from the blind, and cripples torture children and bind them with chains to stop their running off with the takings. I have seen people seek shelter with peasants and then make off in the night, taking with them the last sack of flour. The rich who rob the poor do not know what they do, but the poor man who robs the poor is an eater of human flesh. -- pg 98

He made a pit and digged it. He was cunning in his plans and industrious in his labors. He stooped to the dirty work of digging. He did not fear to soil his own hands. He was willing to work in a ditch if others might fall therein. What mean things men will do to wreak revenge on the godly. They hunt for good men as if they were brute beasts - they that will not give them the fair chase afforded to the hare or the fox, but must secretly entrap them because they can neither run them down nor shoot them down. Our enemies will not meet us to the face for they fear us as much as they pretend to despise us. But let us look on to the end of the scene. The verse says he has fallen into the ditch that he has made. Ah, there he is. Let us laugh at his disappointment. Lo, he is himself the beast. He has hunted his own soul. The chase has brought him a goodly victim. So should it ever be.

Maybe he's not drunk. Maybe he's ill,' she said. 'He's drunk,' Otto said. 'Come along to bed.' 'How do you know?' 'Don't shout.' 'Can't you leave room for doubt? Maybe he's had an epileptic fit! A heart attack! You're so full of cunning, catching everyone out . . . the American form of wisdom! What if he is drunk! Isn't that bad enough!