I've Got An Adjective That Just Fits

One Of Those Men Who Reach Such An Acute Limited Excellence At Twenty−one That Everything Afterward Savors Of Anti−climax.

Forgotten Is Forgiven.

My God,' He Gasped, 'you're Fun To Kiss.

Either You Think, Or Else Others Have To Think For You And Take Power From You, Pervert And Discipline Your Natural Tastes, Civilize And Sterilize You.

Given A Decent Start Any Girl Can Beat A Man Nowadays.