We cannot learn to love other tourists,-the laws of nature forbid it,-but, meditating soberly on the impossibility of their loving us, we may reach some common platform of tolerance, some common exchange of recognition and amenity.

A man who listens because he has nothing to say can hardly be a source of inspiration. The only listening that counts is that of the talker who alternately absorbs and expresses ideas.

It is not depravity that afflicts the human race so much as a general lack of intelligence.

Humor distorts nothing, and only false gods are laughed off their earthly pedestals.

Art... does not take kindly to facts, is helpless to grapple with theories, and is killed outright by a sermon.

The tourist may complain of other tourists; but he would be lost without them. He may find them in his way, taking up the best seats in the motors, and the best tables in the hotel dining-rooms; but he grows amazingly intimate with them during the voyage, and not infrequently marries one of them when it is over.

It is not what we learn in conversation that enriches us. It is the elation that comes of swift contact with tingling currents of thought.