Of All Human Foibles Love Of Living

I Feed On Good Soup, Not Beautiful Language.

I Recover My Property Wherever I Find It.

There's Nothing Quite Like Tobacco: It's The Passion Of Decent Folk, And Whoever Lives Without Tobacco Doesn't Deserve To Live.

The Maturing Process Of Becoming A Writer Is Akin To That Of A Harlot. First You Do It For Love, Then For A Few Friends, And Finally Only For Money.

Two Wives? That Exceeds The Custom.