To Know One's Own Limitations Is The

. . . The Fellow's Got A Bee In His Bonnet. Thinks God's A Secretion Of The Liver--all Right Once In A Way, But There's No Need To Keep On About It. There's Nothing You Can't Prove If Your Outlook Is Only Sufficiently Limited.

Nothing Is More Vulgar Than A Careful Avoidance Of Beginning A Letter With The First Person Singular.

Every Great Man Has A Woman Behind Him ... And Every Great Woman Has Some Man Or Other In Front Of Her, Tripping Her Up.

I Imagine You Come Across A Number Of People Who Are Disconcerted By The Difference Between What You Do Feel And What They Fancy You Ought To Feel. It Is Fatal To Pay The Smallest Attention To Them.

To The Average Man, Life Presents Itself, Not As Material Malleable To His Hand, But As A Series Of Problems...which He Has To Solve...and He Is Distressed To Find That The More Means He Can Dispose Of-such As Machine-power, Rapid Transport, And General Civilized Amenities, The More His Problems Grow In Hardness And Complexity....perhaps The First Thing He Can Learn Form The Artists Is That The Only Way Of 'mastering' One's Material Is To Abandon The Whole Conception Of Mastery And To Co-operate With It In Love: Whosoever Will Be A Lord Of Life, Let Him Be Its Servant.