Flippancy, The Most Hopeless Form Of Intellectual

In Nothing More Is The English Genius For Domesticity More Notably Declared Than In The Institution Of This Festival-almost One May Call It-of Afternoon Tea...the Mere Chink Of Cups And Saucers Tunes The Mind To Happy Repose.

That Is One Of The Bitter Curses Of Poverty; It Leaves No Right To Be Generous.

To Every Man It Is Decreed: Thou Shalt Live Alone. Happy They Who Imagine That They Have Escaped The Common Lot; Happy, Whilst They Imagine It.

For The Man Sound Of Body And Serene Of Mind There Is No Such Thing As Bad Weather; Every Day Has Its Beauty, And Storms Which Whip The Blood Do But Make It Pulse More Vigorously.

It Is Our Duty Never To Speak Ill Of Others, You Know; Least Of All When We Know That To Do So Will Be The Cause Of Much Pain And Trouble.