Art Is The Stored Honey Of The

The Mystery Of Life--its Inexplicability, Beauty, Cruelty, Tenderness, Folly . . . Has Occupied The Greater Part Of My Waking Thoughts; And In Reverence Or Rage Or Irony, As The Moment Or Situation Might Dictate, I Have Pondered And Even Demanded Of Cosmic Energy To Know Why.

You Walk Into A Room, See A Woman, And Something Happens. It's Chemical. What Are You Going To Do About It?

Nothing Is Proved, All Is Permitted.

The Irish Are A Philosophic As Well As A Practical Race. Their First And Strongest Impulse Is To Make The Best Of A Bad Situation To Put A Better Face On Evil Than It Normally Wears.

The Most Futile Thing In This World Is Any Attempt, Perhaps, At Exact Definition Of Character. All Individuals Are A Bundle Of Contradictions - None More So Than The Most Capable.