If There Is Any Larceny In A

It Is Only When You Open Your Veins And Bleed Onto The Page A Little That You Establish Contact With Your Reader.

There Is The Little Matter Of Disposal Of Droppings In Which The Cat Is Far Ahead Of Its Rivals. The Dog Is Somehow Thrilled By What He Or Any Of His Friends Have Produced, Hates To Leave It, Adores Smelling It, And Sometimes Eats It.

Hockey Is A Fast, Body-contact Game Played By Men With Clubs In Their Hands And Knives Laced To Their Feet.

You Learn Eventually That, While There Are No Villains, There Are No Heroes Either. And Until You Make The Final Discovery That There Are Only Human Beings, Who Are Therefore All The More Fascinating, You Are Liable To Miss Something.

It Is The Custom To Sneer At The Modern Apartment-house, Television, Big-city Christmas, With Its Commercial Taint . . . Office Parties, Artificial . . . Christmas Trees . . . But Future Generations In Search Of Their Lost Christmases May Well Remember Its Innocence; Yes, And Its Beauty, Too.