We Must Stop Talking About

Heroes Are Very Human, Most Of Them; Very Easily Touched By Praise.

The Past Is A Work Of Art, Free Of Irrelevancies And Loose Ends.

Women Who Love The Same Man Have A Kind Of Bitter Freemasonry.

There Is In The Human Race Some Dark Spirit Of Recalcitrance, Always Pulling Us In The Direction Contrary To That In Which We Are Reasonably Expected To Go.

There Is Laughter That Goes So Far As To Lose All Touch With Its Motive, And To Exist Only, Grossly, In Itself. This Is Laughter At Its Best. A Man To Whom Such Laughter Has Often Been Granted May Happen To Die In A Work-house. No Matter. I Will Not Admit That He Has Failed In Life. Another Man, Who Has Never Laughed Thus, May Be Buried In Westminster Abbey, Leaving More Than A Million Pounds Overhead. What Then? I Regard Him As A Failure.