You Lose In The End Unless You

We No Longer Build Fireplaces For Physical Warmth—we Build Them For The Warmth Of The Soul; We Build Them To Dream By, To Hope By, To Home By.

Being An Old Maid Is Like Death By Drowning, A Really Delightful Sensation After You Cease To Struggle.

There Are Only Two Kinds Of People In The World That Really Count. One Kind's Wheat And The Other Kind's Emeralds.

When A New Post-war Generation Has Grown To Puberty And To Youth And To Manhood And Womanhood, It Should Read, And It Should Be Realistically Told, Of The Futility, The Idiocy, The Utter Depravity Of War. For That Matter, This Instruction Could Begin At The Age Of Six With The Taking Of Those Toy Guns Out Of Those Toy Holsters And Throwing Them In The Ash-cans Where They Belong.

A Stricken Tree, A Living Thing, So Beautiful, So Dignified, So Admirable In Its Potential Longevity, Is, Next To Man, Perhaps The Most Touching Of Wounded Objects.