A Boy's Muscles Move Quicker Than His

What The Eye Does Not See, The Stomach Does Not Get Upset Over

I Can't Sit Still And See Another Man Slaving And Working. I Want To Get Up And Superintend, And Walk Round With My Hands In My Pockets, And Tell Him What To Do. It Is My Energetic Nature. I Can't Help It.

I Love The Chill October Days, When The Brown Leaves Lie Thick And Sodden Underneath Your Feet.

It Is Very Strange, This Domination Of Our Intellect By Our Digestive Organs. We Cannot Work, We Cannot Think, Unless Our Stomach Wills So. It Dictates To Us Our Emotions, Our Passions.... We Are But The Veriest, Sorriest Slaves Of Our Stomach. Reach Not After Morality And Righteousness, My Friends; Watch Vigilantly Your Stomach, And Diet It With Care And Judgment. Then Virtue And Contentment Will Come And Reign Within Your Heart, Unsought By Any Effort Of Your Own; And You Will Be A Good Citizen, A Loving Husband, And A Tender Father—a Noble, Pious Man.

You Can Always Tell The Old River Hand By The Way In Which He Stretches Himself Out Upon The Cushions At The Bottom Of The Boat, And Encourages The Rowers By Telling Them Anecdotes About The Marvellous Feats He Performed Last Season.