Commas in The New Yorker fall with the precision of knives in a circus act, outlining the victim.

It sometimes takes days, even weeks, before a dog's nerves tire. In the case of terriers it can run into months.

No one can write decently who is distrustful of the reader's intelligence or whose attitude is patronizing.

A man's liberal and conservative phases seem to follow each other in a succession of waves from the time he is born. Children are radicals. Youths are conservatives, with a dash of criminal negligence. Men in their prime are liberals (as long as their digestion keeps pace with their intellect). The middle aged run to shelter: they insure their life, draft a will, accumulate mementos and occasional tables, and hope for security. And then comes old age, which repeats childhood - a time full of humors and sadness, but often full of courage and even prophecy.

A schoolchild should be taught grammar - for the same reason that a medical student should study anatomy. Having learned about the exciting mysteries of an English sentence, the child can then go forth and speak and write any damn way he pleases.

Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom.

English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education - sometimes it's sheer luck, like getting across the street.