A liar did ought to have a good memory.

It is the fashion to talk of our changing climate and bewail the hot summers and hard winters of tradition, but how seldom we pause to marvel at the remarkable constancy of the weather from year to year.

Unlike most great talkers, the rooks are good workers, too.

It was ordained that our earthly pilgrammage should be a struggle, and life would be a tame affair if everything went smoothly.

The luxuries of the few were becoming necessities of the many.

Some great poet or philosopher once said that " he who goes to nature for comfort must go to her empty handed " , and I think he was right.

What greater restoratives have we poor mortals than a good meal taken in the company of loving friends?