Turn Up The Lights. I Don't Want

It Ain't The Roads We Take; It's What's Inside Of Us That Makes Us Turn Out The Way We Do.

Most Wonderful Of All Are Words, And How They Make Friends One With Another.

[a]ll Of Life, As We Know It, Moves In Little, Unavailing Circles. More Justly Than To Anything Else, It Can Be Likened To The Game Of Baseball. Crack! We Hit The Ball, And Away We Go. If We Earn A Run (in Life We Call It Success) We Get Back To The Home Plate And Sit Upon A Bench. If We Are Thrown Out, We Walk Back To The Home Plate -- And Sit Upon A Bench.

Perhaps There Is No Happiness In Life So Perfect As The Martyr's.

In Time Truth And Science And Nature Will Adapt Themselves To Art. Things Will Happen Logically, And The Villain Be Discomfited Instead Of Being Elected To The Board Of Directors. But In The Meantime Fiction Must Not Only Be Divorced From Fact, But Must Pay Alimony And Be Awarded Custody Of The Press Despatches.