My Only Books Were Woman's Looks,- And

I Allow No Hot-beds In The Gardens Of Parnassus.

Merit, God Knows, Is Very Little Rewarded.

Shakespeare Is One Of The Last Books One Should Like To Give Up, Perhaps The One Just Before The Dying Service In A Large Prayer Book.

No One Ever Regarded The First Of January With Indifference. It Is That From Which All Date Their Time, And Count Upon What Is Left. It Is The Nativity Of Our Common Adam.

Anything Awful Makes Me Laugh. I Misbehaved Once At A Funeral.