In Less Than Twenty-five Years . .

In Less Than Twenty-five Years . . . The Motor-car Will Be Obsolete, Because The Aeroplane Will Run Along The Ground As Well As Fly Over It.

There Is Poetry In A Pork Chop To A Hungry Man.

If There Is Anything I've Learned, Is That Piety Is Smarter Than Hate, That Mercy Is Preferable Even To Justice Itself, That If You Go Around The World With Friendly Look, One Does Good Friends.

But The Worst Handicap We Had The Prohibition Of Naming Individual Units Who Had Done The Fighting.

It Was So Quiet That Morning In Paris That The Heels Of My Two Companions And Myself Were Loud On The Deserted Pavements. It Was A City Of Shuttered Shops, And Barred Windows, And Deserted Avenues.