To Brag Little, To Lose Well, /

My Right To Swing My Fist Ends Where Your Nose Begins.

It Takes Me Several Days, After I Get Back To Boston, To Realize That The Reference "the President" Refers To The President Of Harvard And Not To A Minor Official In Washington.

As For The Excellent Little Wretches Who Grow Up In What They Are Taught, With Never A Scruple Or A Query, ... They Signify Nothing In The Intellectual Life Of The Race.

The Joy Of Life Is To Put Out One's Power In Some Natural And Useful Or Harmless Way. There Is No Other. And The Real Misery Is Not To Do This.

Nothing Can Be So Perfect While We Possess It As It Will Seem When Remembered.