We Must Grant The Artist His Subject,

The Right Time Is Any Time That One Is Still So Lucky As To Have.

Little By Little, Even With Other Cares, The Slowly But Surely Working Poison Of The Garden-mania Begins To Stir In My Long-sluggish Veins.

I Have In My Own Fashion Learned The Lesson That Life Is Effort, Unremittingly Repeated.

She Was A Woman Who, Between Courses, Could Be Graceful With Her Elbows On The Table.

If I Should Certainly Say To A Novice, 'write From Experience And Experience Only,' I Should Feel That This Was Rather A Tantalizing Monition If I Were Not Careful Immediately To Add, 'try To Be One Of The People On Whom Nothing Is Lost.'