M Is For Marx And Clashing Of

Melancholy And Remorse Forms The Deep Leaden Keel Which Enables Us To Sail Into The Wind Of Reality.

Carelessness Is Not Fatal To Journalism, Nor Are Cliches, For The Eye Rests Lightly On Them. But What Is Intended To Be Read Once Can Seldom Be Read More Than Once; A Journalist Has To Accept The Fact That His Work, By Its Very Todayness, Is Excluded From Any Share In Tomorrow.

In A Perfect Union The Man And Woman Are Like A Strung Bow. Who Is To Say Whether The String Bends The Bow, Or The Bow Tightens The String?

The Detective Story Itself Is In A Dilemma. It Is A Vein Which Is In Danger Of Being Worked Out, The Demand Is Constant, The Powers Of Supply Variable, And The Reader, With Each One He Absorbs, Grows A Little More Sophisticated And Harder To Please, While The Novelist, After Each One He Writes, Becomes A Little More Exhausted.

The Greatest Problem With Women Is How To Contrive That They Should Seem Our Equals