Party Politics Is Now A Real Farce.

There Is But On Virtue--the Eternal Sacrifice Of Self.

A Cigar Numbs Sorrow And Fills The Solitary Hours With A Million Gracious Images.

One Is Happy As A Result Of One's Own Efforts, Once One Knows Of The Necessary Ingredients Of Happiness-simple Tastes, A Certain Degree Of Courage, Self-denial To A Point, Love Of Work, And, Above All, A Clear Conscience. Happiness Is No Vague Dream, Of That I Now Feel Certain.

Sorrow Makes Us Very Good Or Very Bad.

The Trade Of Authorship Is A Violent, And Indestructible Obsession.