This is the woman's century, the first chance for the mother of the world to rise to her full place . . . and the world waits while she powders her nose.

Exciting literature after supper is not the best digestive.

It is not for nothing that a man's best friends sigh when he marries, especially if he is a man of genius.

The original necessity for the ceaseless presence of the woman to maintain that altar fire - and it was an altar fire in very truth at one period - has passed with the means of prompt ignition; the matchbox has freed the housewife from that incessant service, but the feeling that women should stay at home is with us yet.

A family unity which is only bound together with a table-cloth is of questionable value.

There's heaven. There it is. What more do we mean? People, free to come together, and in beauty - for growth.

As for mother Eve - I wasn't there and can't deny the story, but I will say this. If she brought evil into the world, we men have had the lion's share of keeping it going ever since.