Critics Kind Never Mind! Critics Flatter No

How Sweet The Morning Air Is! ...how Small We Feel With Our Petty Ambitions And Strivings In The Presence Of The Great Elemental Forces Of Nature!

It Was In The Days When France's Power Was Already Broken Upon The Seas, And When More Of Her Three-deckers Lay Rotting In The Medway Than Were To Be Found In Brest Harbour. But Her Frigates And Corvettes Still Scoured The Ocean, Closely Followed Ever By Those Of Her Rival. At The Uttermost Ends Of The Earth These Dainty Vessels, With Sweet Names Of Girls Or Of Flowers, Mangled And Shattered Each Other For The Honour Of The Four Yards Of Bunting Which Flapped From The End Of Their Gaffs.

A Study Of Family Portraits Is Enough To Convert A Man To The Theory Of Reincarnation.

There's An East Wind Coming All The Same, Such A Wind As Never Blew On England Yet. It Will Be Cold And Bitter, Watson, And A Good Many Of Us May Wither Before Its Blast. But It's God's Own Wind None The Less And A Cleaner, Better Stronger Land Will Lie In The Sunshine When The Storm Has Cleared.

I Consider That A Man's Brain Originally Is Like A Little Empty Attic, And You Have To Stock It With Such Furniture As You Choose.