Idling Has Always Been My Strong Point.

It's Really Extraordinary What A Variety Of Ways Of Loving There Must Be. We All Do It As It Was Never Done Before.

The Odour Of Burgundy, And The Smell Of French Sauces, And The Sight Of Clean Napkins And Long Loaves, Knocked As A Very Welcome Visitor At The Door Of Our Inner Man.

We Are So Bound Together That No Man Can Labor For Himself Alone. Each Blow He Strikes In His Own Behalf Helps To Mold The Universe.

We Like, We Cherish, We Are Very, Very Fond Of—but We Never Love Again.

Some People Are Under The Impression That All That Is Required To Make A Good Fisherman Is The Ability To Tell Lies Easily And Without Blushing; But This Is A Mistake. Mere Bald Fabrication Is Useless; The Veriest Tyro Can Manage That. It Is In The Circumstantial Detail, The Embellishing Touches Of Probability, The General Air Of Scrupulous - Almost Of Pedantic - Veracity, That The Experienced Angler Is Seen.