The Saxophone Is The Embodied Spirit Of

No Mind, However Loving, Could Bear To See Plainly Into All The Recess Of Another Mind.

Every Scene, Even The Commonest, Is Wonderful, If Only One Can Detach Oneself, Casting Off All Memory Of Use And Custom, And Behold It (as It Were) For The First Time; In Its Right, Authentic Colors; Without Making Comparisons. Cherish And Burnish This Faculty Of Seeing Crudely, Simply, Artlessly, Ignorantly; Of Seeing Like A Baby Or A Lunatic, Who Lives Each Moment By Itself And Tarnishes By The Present No Remembrance Of The Past.

I Know People Who Read And Read, And For All The Good It Does Them, They Might As Well Cut Bread And Butter. Unless You Give At Least 45 Minutes Of Careful, Fatiguing Reflection Upon What You Are Reading, Your Minutes Are Chiefly Wasted.

Being A Husband Is A Whole-time Job.

Because Her Instinct Has Told Her, Or Because She Has Been Reliably Informed, The Faded Virgin Knows That The Supreme Joys Are Not For Her; She Knows By A Process Of The Intellect; But She Can Feel Her Deprivation No More Than The Young Mother Can Feel The Hardship Of The Virgin's Lot.