We Are Tethered To Our

A Villain Must Be A Thing Of Power, Handled With Delicacy And Grace. He Must Be Wicked Enough To Excite Our Aversion, Strong Enough To Arouse Our Fear, Human Enough To Awaken Some Transient Gleam Of Sympathy. We Must Triumph In His Downfall, Yet Not Barbarously Nor With Contempt, And The Close Of His Career Must Be In Harmony With All Its Previous Development.

Like Simplicity And Candor, And Other Much-commented Qualities, Enthusiasm Is Charming Until We Meet It Face To Face, And Cannot Escape From Its Charm.

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

Wit Is Artificial; Humor Is Natural. Wit Is Accidental; Humor Is Inevitable. Wit Is Born Of Conscious Effort; Humor, Of The Allotted Ironies Of Fate. Wit Can Be Expressed Only In Language; Humor Can Be Developed Sufficiently In Situation.

Who That Has Plodded On To Middle Age Would Take Back Upon His Shoulders Ten Of The Vanished Years, With Their Mingled Pleasures And Pains? Who Would Return To The Youth He Is Forever Pretending To Regret?