That is an editor. He is trying to think of a word. He props his feet on a chair, which is the editor's way; then he can think better. I do not care much for this one; his ears are not alike; still, editor suggests the sound of Edward, and he will do. I could make him better if I had a model, but I made this one from memory. But is no particular matter; they all look alike, anyway. They are conceited and troublesome, and don't pay enough.

I'm merely running some errands. This is now off the record.

There is no sadder sight than a young pessimist.

If there is a God, he is a malign thug.

I have too much respect for the truth to drag it out on every trifling occasion.

If we were meant to talk more than listen, we would have two mouths and one ear.

The truth hurts, but silence kills.