There Is Nothing In The World So

I Wonder What Especial Sanctity Attaches Itself To Fifteen Minutes. It Is Always The Maximum And The Minimum Of Time Which Will Enable Us To Acquire Languages, Etiquette, Personality, Oratory ... One Gathers That Twelve Minutes A Day Would Be Hopelessly Inadequate, And Twenty Minutes A Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

It Is In His Pleasure That A Man Really Lives; It Is From His Leisure That He Constructs The True Fabric Of Self.

No Rural Community, No Suburban Community, Can Ever Possess The Distinctive Qualities That City Dwellers Have For Centuries Given To The World.

The Delusions Of The Past Seem Fond And Foolish. The Delusions Of The Present Seem Subtle And Sane.

A Villain Must Be A Thing Of Power, Handled With Delicacy And Grace. He Must Be Wicked Enough To Excite Our Aversion, Strong Enough To Arouse Our Fear, Human Enough To Awaken Some Transient Gleam Of Sympathy. We Must Triumph In His Downfall, Yet Not Barbarously Nor With Contempt, And The Close Of His Career Must Be In Harmony With All Its Previous Development.