what is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty.

what's the good of having news an' ye must coop it? It's like cold veal pie upon the chest for supper, the same being over old, under done, and dry o' gravy.

what is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty.

Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month seem only stirred to lamentation, giving us year end and 'melancholy days' remarks, thereby showing that theory is stronger than observation among the rhyming brotherhood, or else that they have chronic indigestion and no gardens to stimulate them.

Why is it that so many people think that charity consists in giving away merely what they cannot use instead of the article the recipient needs?

Surely there is no greater garden for human-nature study than the flotsam and jetsam of the hospital.

it is really astonishing how few colors are inharmonious when they are profusely massed and have green for a background.