The Facts Of Life Are The Impossibilities

Life Will Always Remain A Gamble, With Prizes Sometimes For The Imprudent, And Blanks So Often To The Wise.

That The Boat Did Not Upset I Simply State As A Fact. Why It Did Not Upset I Am Unable To Offer Any Reason. I Have Often Thought About The Matter Since, But I Have Never Succeeded In Arriving At Any Satisfactory Explanation Of The Phenomenon. Possibly The Result May Have Been Brought About By The Natural Obstinacy Of All Things In This World. The Boat May Possibly Have Come To The Conclusion, Judging From A Cursory View Of Our Behaviour, That We Had Come Out For A Morning's Suicide, And Had Thereupon Determined To Disappoint Us. That Is The Only Suggestion I Can Offer.

I Love The Chill October Days, When The Brown Leaves Lie Thick And Sodden Underneath Your Feet ... The Evenings In Late Autumn Time, When The White Mist Creeps Across The Fields, Making It Seem As Though Old Earth, Feeling The Night Air Cold To Its Poor Bones, Were Drawing Ghostly Bedclothes Round Its Withered Limbs.

I Love The Chill October Days, When The Brown Leaves Lie Thick And Sodden Underneath Your Feet.

It Is No More Effort For A Man To Be A Saint Than To Be A Sinner; It Becomes A Mere Matter Of Habit.