To Say That A Man Is Vain

Humility Is A Virtue, And It Is A Virtue Innate In Guests.

For A Young Man, Sleep Is A Sure Solvent Of Distress. There Whirls Not For Him In The Night Any So Hideous Phantasmagoria As Will Not Become, In The Clarity Of The Next Morning, A Spruce Procession For Him To Lead. Brief The Vague Horror Of His Awakening; Memory Sweeps Back To Him, And He Sees Nothing Dreadful After All. "why Not?" Is The Sun's Bright Message To Him, And "why Not Indeed?" His Answer.

Golf: The Most ... Perfect Expression Of National Stupidity.

Somehow, Our Sense Of Justice Never Turns In Its Sleep Till Long After The Sense Of Injustice In Others Has Been Thoroughly Aroused.

Has The Gift Of Laughter Been Withdrawn From Me? I Protest That I Do Still, At The Age Of Forty-seven, Laugh Often And Loud And Long. But Not, I Believe, So Long And Loud And Often As In My Less Smiling Youth. And I Am Proud, Nowadays, Of Laughing, And Grateful To Any One Who Makes Me Laugh. That Is A Bad Sign. I No Longer Take Laughter As A Matter Of Course.