With all that we hear of American hustle and hurry, it is rather strange that Americans seem to like to linger on longer words.

somehow one must love the world without being worldly.

Were Patrick Henry to return to earth and look around on the vast economic order of the day, he might revise his observation and merely say ‘Give me death’-the alternative being manifestly impossible under modern conditions.

Dipsomaniac and the abstainer are not only both mistaken, but they both make the same mistake. They both regard wine as a drug and not as a drink.

Nothing is poetical if plain daylight is not poetical; and no monster should amaze us if the normal man does not amaze.

Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth?

When the chord of monotony is stretched to its tightest, it breaks with the sound of a song.