The rich man has his motorcar, His country and his town estate, He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at Fate. He frivols through the livelong day, He knows not Poverty, her pinch. His lot seems light, his heart seems gay; He has a cinch. Yet though my lamp burns low and dim, Though I must slave for livelihood- Think you that I would change with him? You bet I would!

There are hundreds who can stand failure to one who can stand success; the good loser is far more common than the good winner.

Having imagination, it takes you an hour to write a paragraph that, if you were unimaginative, would take you only a minute. Or you might not write the paragraph at all.

Elections are won by men and women chiefly because most people vote against somebody rather than for somebody.

Nothing is more responsible for the good old days than a bad memory.

Money isn't everything, but lack of money isn't anything.

While the work or play is on, it is a lot of fun if while you are doing one you don't constantly feel that you ought to be doing the other.