The Soul Begins To Travel When The

But Self-satisfaction, If As Buoyant As Gas, Has An Ugly Trick Of Collapsing When Full Blown, And Facts Are Stony Things That Refuse To Melt Away In The Sunshine Of A Smile.

It Has Been Wisely Said That We Cannot Really Love Anybody At Whom We Never Laugh.

Sensuality, Too, Which Used To Show Itself Course, Smiling, Unmasked, And Unmistakable, Is Now Serious, Analytic, And So Burdened With A Sense Of Its Responsibilities That It Passes Muster Half The Time As A New Type Of Asceticism.

There Is A Vast Deal Of Make-believe In The Carefully Nurtured Sentiment For Country Life, And The Barefoot Boy, And The Mountain Girl.

When The Milk Of Human Kindness Turns Sour, It Is A Singularly Unpalatable Draught.