Each Man Reserves To Himself Alone The

Only A Biker Knows Why A Dog Sticks His Head Out Of A Car Window.

When Summer Opens, I See How Fast It Matures, And Fear It Will Be Short; But After The Heats Of July And August, I Am Reconciled, Like One Who Has Had His Swing, To The Cool Of Autumn.

The Ancients Called Beauty The Flowering Of Virtue.

In Good Writing, Words Become One With Things.

I Suppose Every Old Scholar Has Had The Experience Of Reading Something In A Book Which Was Significant To Him, But Which He Could Never Find Again. Sure He Is That He Read It There, But No One Else Ever Read It, Nor Can He Find It Again, Though He Buy The Book And Ransack Every Page.