Love, According To Our Contemporary Poets, Is

Good Befalls Us While We Sleep, Sometimes.

Love And Work Have The Virtues Of Making A Man Pretty Indifferent To Anything Else.

A Man's Own Vanity Is A Swindler That Never Lacks For A Dupe.

In Paris, The Greatest Expression Of Personal Satisfaction Known To Man Is The Smirk On The Face Of A Male, Highly Pleased With Himself As He Leaves The Boudoir Of A Lady.

No Hawk Swooping Down Upon His Prey, No Stag Improvising New Detours By Which To Trick The Huntsman, No Dog Scenting Game From Afar Is Comparable In Speed To The Celerity Of A Salesman When He Gets Wind A Deal, To His Skill In Tripping Up Or Forestalling A Rival, And To The Art With Which He Sniffs Out And Discovers A Possible Sale.