I Often Arrive At Quite Sensible Ideas

You Can Always Tell The Old River Hand By The Way In Which He Stretches Himself Out Upon The Cushions At The Bottom Of The Boat, And Encourages The Rowers By Telling Them Anecdotes About The Marvellous Feats He Performed Last Season.

That Is Just The Way With Memory; Nothing That She Brings To Us Is Complete. She Is A Willful Child; All Her Toys Are Broken. I Remember Tumbling Into A Huge Dust-hole When A Very Small Boy, But I Have Not The Faintest Recollection Of Ever Getting Out Again; And If Memory Were All We Had To Trust To, I Should Be Compelled To Believe I Was There Still.

I Often Arrive At Quite Sensible Ideas And Judgements, On The Spur Of The Moment. It Is When I Stop To Think That I Become Foolish.

It Is No More Effort For A Man To Be A Saint Than To Be A Sinner; It Becomes A Mere Matter Of Habit.

The World Must Be Rather A Rough Place For Clever People. Ordinary Folk Dislike Them, And As For Themselves, They Hate Each Other Most Cordially.