The Unluckiest Insolvent In The World Is

Beauty Is Ever To The Lonely Mind A Shadow Fleeting; She Is Never Plain. She Is A Visitor Who Leaves Behind The Gift Of Grief, The Souvenir Of Pain.

Truth, Like Milk, Arrives In The Dark But Even So, Wise Dogs Don't Bark. Only Mongrels Make It Hard For The Milkman To Come Up The Yard.

It Is Unfair To Blame Man Too Fiercely For Being Pugnacious; He Learned The Habit From Nature.

The Human Mind Appears Suddenly And Inexplicably Out Of Some Unknown And Unimaginable Void. It Passes Half Its Known Life In The Mental Chaos Of Sleep. Even When Awake It Is A Victim Of Its Own Ill-adjustment, Of Disease, Of Age, Of External Suggestion, Of Nature's Compulsions; It Doubts Its Own Sensations And Trusts Only In Instruments And Averages.

The Censure Of A Dog Is Something No Man Can Stand.