So Few Men Are Really Worth Knowing,

A Bad Man Is The Sort Who Weeps Every Time He Speaks Of A Good Woman.

The Public, With Its Mob Yearning To Be Instructed, Edified And Pulled By The Nose, Demands Certainties; It Must Be Told Definitely And A Bit Raucously That This Is True And That Is False. But There Are No Certainties.

No Reporter Of My Generation, Whatever His Genius, Ever Really Rated Spats And A Walking Stick Until He Had Covered Both A Lynching And A Revolution.

Debussy--a Pretty Girl With One Blue Eye And One Brown One.

It Is Only Doubt That Creates.