News Is Like Food: It Is The

Words Move, Turning Over Like Tumbling Clowns; Like Certain Books And Like Fleas, They Possess Activity. All Men Equally Have The Right To Say, 'this Word Shall Bear This Meaning,' And See If They Can Get It Across. It Is A Sporting Game, Which All Can Play, Only All Cannot Win.

Why Is Humanity So Excessive In The Way It Does Things? The Golden Mean Seems Out Of Fashion.

Once Learnt, This Business Of Cooking Was To Prove An Ever Growing Burden. It Scarcely Bears Thinking About, The Time And Labour That Man And Womankind Has Devoted To The Preparation Of Dishes That Are To Melt And Vanish In A Moment Like Smoke Or A Dream, Like A Shadow, And As A Post That Hastes By, And The Air Closes Behind Them, Afterwards No Sign Where They Went Is To Be Found.

Atheism Was Natural Enough, But Heresy Seemed Strange. For, Surely, If One Could Believe Anything, One Could Believe Everything.

Cranks Live By Theory, Not By Pure Desire. They Want Votes, Peace, Nuts, Liberty, And Spinning-looms Not Because They Love These Things, As A Child Loves Jam, But Because They Think They Ought To Have Them. That Is One Element Which Makes The Crank.