That is the tragedy of growing old, Chris. You don't leave the world. It leaves you.

having considerable mind, changing it became almost as ponderous an operation as moving a barn, although not nearly so stable.

People that trust themselves a dozen miles from the city, in strange houses, with servants they don't know, needn't be surprised if they wake up some morning and find their throats cut.

It takes a good many years and some pretty hard knocks to make people tolerant.

The world doesn't come to the clever folks, it comes to the stubborn, obstinate, one-idea-at-a-time people.

Used to move so much, every time the chickens saw the team put in the wagon, they'd lie down on their backs and hold their legs up to be tied!

Young Doctor Arden was gong through the process of reorienting himself after a night's sleep.