Stir The Eggnog, Lift The Toddy, Happy

The Wonderful Thing About Saints Is That They Were Human. They Lost Their Tempers, Got Hungry, Scolded God, Were Egotistical Or Impatient In Their Turns, Made Mistakes And Regretted Them. Still They Went On Doggedly Blundering Toward Heaven.

It Is The Leisured, I Have Noticed, Who Rebel The Most At An Interruption Of Routine.

History Must Always Be Taken With A Grain Of Salt. It Is, After All, Not A Science But An Art.

One Applauds The Industry Of Professional Philanthropy. But It Has Its Dangers. After A While The Private Heart Begins To Harden. We Fling Letters Into The Wastebasket, Are Abrupt To Telephoned Solicitations. Charity Withers In The Incessant Gale.

The Human Animal Needs A Freedom Seldom Mentioned, Freedom From Intrusion. He Needs A Little Privacy As Much As He Wants Understanding Or Vitamins Or Exercise Or Praise.