Prose Is A Poor Thing, A Poor

I Do Not Like January Very Much. It Is Too Stationary. Not Enough Happens. I Like The Evidences Of Life, And In January There Are Too Few Of Them.

Travel Is A Private Pleasure, Since It Consists Entirely Of Things Felt And Things Seen.

It Isn't That I Don't Like Sweet Disorder, But It Has To Be Judiciously Arranged.

Is It Better To Be Extremely Ambitious, Or Rather Modest? Probably The Latter Is Safer; But I Hate Safety, And Would Rather Fail Gloriously Than Dingily Succeed.

Things Were Not Tragic For Us Then, Because Although We Cared Passionately We Didn't Care Deeply.