I Like Rudeness A Great Deal Better

What The Deuce Is To Do Now?

Life Appears To Me Too Short To Be Spent In Nursing Animosity, Or Registering Wrongs.

In Sunshine, In Prosperity, The Flowers Are Very Well; But How Many Wet Days Are There In Life—november Seasons Of Disaster, When A Man's Hearth And Home Would Be Cold Indeed, Without The Clear, Cheering Gleam Of Intellect.

For Those Who Are Not Hungry, It Is Easy To Palaver About The Degradation Of Charity.

Too Often Do Reviewers Remind Us Of The Mob Of Astrologers, Chaldeans, And Soothsayers Gathered Before 'the Writing On The Wall' And Unable To Read The Characters Or Make Known The Interpretation.