There Is Much To Be Said For

There Is Laughter That Goes So Far As To Lose All Touch With Its Motive, And To Exist Only, Grossly, In Itself. This Is Laughter At Its Best. A Man To Whom Such Laughter Has Often Been Granted May Happen To Die In A Work-house. No Matter. I Will Not Admit That He Has Failed In Life. Another Man, Who Has Never Laughed Thus, May Be Buried In Westminster Abbey, Leaving More Than A Million Pounds Overhead. What Then? I Regard Him As A Failure.

Every One, Even The Richest And Most Munificent Of Men, Pays Much By Cheque More Light-heartedly Than He Pays Little In Specie.

The Hospitable Instinct Is Not Wholly Altruistic. There Is Pride And Egoism Mixed Up With It.

The Loveliest Face In All The World Will Not Please You If You See It Suddenly Eye To Eye, At A Distance Of Half An Inch From Your Own.

A Quiet City Is A Contradiction In Terms. It Is A Thing Uncanny, Spectral.