A Self-made Martyr Is A Poor Thing.

Tilling The Fertile Soil Of Man's Vanity.

No Idea Is So Antiquitated That It Was Not Once Modern. No Idea Is So Modern That It Will Not Some Day Be Antiquitated . . . To Seize The Flying Thought Before It Escapes Us Is Our Only Touch With Reality.

To A Thrifty Theologian, Bent On Redemption With Economy, There Are Few Points Of Ethics Too Fine-spun For Splitting.

Energy Had Fastened Upon Her Like A Disease.

The Pathos Of Life Is Worse Than The Tragedy.