I Ate 'umble Pie With An Appetite.

The Aim Of Talk Should Be Like The Aim Of A Flying Arrow -- To Hit The Mark; But To This End There Must Be A Mark To Hit, That Is, There Must Be A Listener.

With Throbbing Veins And Burning Skin, Eyes Wild And Heavy, Thoughts Hurried And Disordered, He Felt As Though The Light Were A Reproach, And Shrunk Involuntarily From The Day As If He Were Some Foul And Hideous Thing.

Spite Is A Little Word, But It Represents As Strange A Jumble Of Feelings And Compound Of Discords, As Any Polysyllable In The Language.

We Must Scrunch Or Be Scrunched.

If There Were No Bad People, There Would Be No Good Lawyers.