Idleness, Like Kisses, To Be Sweet Must

I Could Not Conjure Up One Melancholy Fancy Upon A Mutton Chop And A Glass Of Champagne.

I Love The Chill October Days, When The Brown Leaves Lie Thick And Sodden Underneath Your Feet ... The Evenings In Late Autumn Time, When The White Mist Creeps Across The Fields, Making It Seem As Though Old Earth, Feeling The Night Air Cold To Its Poor Bones, Were Drawing Ghostly Bedclothes Round Its Withered Limbs.

In The Future There Are Going To Be No Pretty Girls, For The Simple Reason There Will Be No Plain Girls Against Which To Contrast Them. Of Late I Have Done Some Systematic Reading Of Ladies Papers. The Plain Girl Submits To A Course Of "treatment." In Eighteen Months She Bursts Upon Society An Acknowledged Beauty.

I Don't Know Why It Should Be, I Am Sure; But The Sight Of Another Man Asleep In Bed When I Am Up, Maddens Me.

We Shall Never Be Content Until Each Man Makes His Own Weather And Keeps It To Himself.