Love Is Like The Measles; We All

Love Is Woman's Business,and In "business" We All Lay Aside Our Natural Weaknesses.

Five Thousand People In One Society Might Do Something, But Five Thousand Societies Of One Member Each Would Be A Holy Trouble.

I Saw A Great Newfoundland Dog The Other Day Sitting In Front Of A Mirror At The Entrance To A Shop In Regent's Circus, And Examining Himself With An Amount Of Smug Satisfaction That I Have Never Seen Equaled Elsewhere Outside A Vestry Meeting.

(speaking Of The Cistercian Monks) A Grim Fraternity, Passing Grim Lives In That Sweet Spot, That God Had Made So Bright! Strange That Nature's Voices All Around Them--the Soft Singing Of The Waters, The Wisperings Of The River Grass, The Music Of The Rushing Wind--should Not Have Taught Them A Truer Meaning Of Life Than This. They Listened There, Through The Long Days, In Silence, Waiting For A Voice From Heaven; And All Day Long And Through The Solemn Night It Spoke To Them In Myriad Tones, And They Heard It Not.

So, Eventually, He Made One Final Arrangement With Himself, Which He Has Religiously Held To Ever Since, And That Was To Count Each Fish That He Caught As Ten, And To Assume Ten To Begin With. For Example, If He Did Not Catch Any Fish At All, Then He Said He Had Caught Ten Fish - You Could Never Catch Less Than Ten Fish By His System; That Was The Foundation Of It. Then, If By Any Chance He Really Did Catch One Fish, He Called It Twenty, While Two Fish Would Count Thirty, Three Forty, And So On.