Love Is Like The Measles; We All

We Drink [to] One Another's Health And Spoil Our Own.

When A Man Or Woman Loves To Brood Over A Sorrow And Takes Care To Keep It Green In Their Memory, You May Be Sure It Is No Longer A Pain To Them.

Nature, Always Inartistic, Takes Pleasure In Creating The Impossible.

In The Future There Are Going To Be No Pretty Girls, For The Simple Reason There Will Be No Plain Girls Against Which To Contrast Them. Of Late I Have Done Some Systematic Reading Of Ladies Papers. The Plain Girl Submits To A Course Of "treatment." In Eighteen Months She Bursts Upon Society An Acknowledged Beauty.

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.