Where There Is No Temptation, There Is

Woman Is Quick To Revere Genius, But In Her Secret Soul She Seldom Loves It.

He Is Your Friend, Your Partner, Your Defender, Your Dog. You Are His Life, His Love, His Leader. He Will Be Yours, Faithful And True, To The Last Beat Of His Heart. You Owe It To Him To Be Worthy Of Such Devotion. Our Dogs Will Love And Admire The Meanest Of Us, And Feed Our Colossal Vanity With Their Uncritical Homage.

To Be Civilized Is To Be Incapable Of Giving Unnecessary Offense, It Is To Have Some Quality Of Consideration For All Who Cross Our Path.

Anyone, However, Who Has Had Dealings With Dates Knows That They Are Worse Than Elusive, They Are Perverse. Events Do Not Happen At The Right Time, Nor In Their Proper Sequence. That Sense Of Harmony With Place And Season Which Is So Strong In The Historian--if He Be A Readable Historian--is Lamentably Lacking In History, Which Takes No Pains To Verify His Most Convincing Statements.

We Have But The Memories Of Past Good Cheer, We Have But The Echoes Of Departed Laughter. In Vain We Look And Listen For The Mirth That Has Died Away. In Vain We Seek To Question The Gray Ghosts Of Old-time Revelers.