A Painter Can Hang His Pictures, But

What Is Most Appalling In An F. Scott Fitzgerald Book Is That It Is Peopleless Fiction: Fitzgerald Writes About Spectral, Muscledsuits; Dresses, Hats, And Sleeves Which Have Some Sort Of Vague, Libidinous Throb. These Are Plainly The Product Of Sickness.

A Man Who Can Be Entertaining For A Full Day Will Be In His Grave By Night-fall.

Hardly A Book Of Human Worth, Be It Heaven's Own Secret, Is Honestly Placed Before The Reader; It Is Either Shunned, Given A Periclean Funeral Oration In A Hundred And Fifty Words, Or Interred In The Potter's Field Of The Newspapers Back Pages.

Woman Is The Most Superstitious Animal Beneath The Moon. When A Woman Has A Premonition That Tuesday Will Be A Disaster, To Which A Man Pays No Heed, He Will Very Likely Lose His Fortune Then. This Is Not Meant To Be An Occult Or Mystic Remark. The Female Body Is A Vessel, And The Universe Drops Its Secrets Into Her Far More Quickly Than It Communicates Them To The Male.

Always Like To Look On The Optimistic Side Of Life, But I Am Realistic Enough To Know That Life Is A Complex Matter. Walt Disney Every Decision You Make Is A Mistake.