The Soul Begins To Travel When The

A Dead Grief Is Easier To Bear Than A Live Trouble.

Wit Is A Pleasure-giving Thing, Largely Because It Eludes Reason; But In The Apprehension Of An Absurdity Through The Working Of The Comic Spirit There Is A Foundation Of Reason, And An Impetus To Human Companionship.

If History In The Making Be A Fluid Thing, It Swiftly Crystallizes.

But Self-satisfaction, If As Buoyant As Gas, Has An Ugly Trick Of Collapsing When Full Blown, And Facts Are Stony Things That Refuse To Melt Away In The Sunshine Of A Smile.

It Is Not Depravity That Afflicts The Human Race So Much As A General Lack Of Intelligence.