There Are Two Moments Worthwhile In Writing,

To-morrow, When I Wake, Or Think I Do, What Shall I Say Of To-day?

To Every Man His Little Cross. Till He Dies. And Is Forgotten.

Habit Is A Compromise Effected Between An Individual And His Environment.

I Hope I Am Not Too Old To Take It Up Seriously, Nor Too Stupid About Machines To Qualify As A Commercial Pilot. I Do Not Feel Like Spending The Rest Of My Life Writing Books That No One Will Read. It Is Not As Though I Wanted To Write Them.

Ah, The Old Questions, The Old Answers, There's Nothing Like Them!