If we would learn what the human race really is at bottom, we need only observe it in election times.
But we love the Old Travelers. We love to hear them prate and drivel and lie.
When ill luck begins, it does not come in sprinkles, but in showers.
Is the human race a joke? Was it devised and patched together in a dull time when there was nothing important to do?
The public is the only critic whose judgment is worth anything at all.
It was the schoolboy who said, ""Faith is believing what you know ain't so.""