It is only when you open your veins and bleed onto the page a little that you establish contact with your reader.

It is the custom to sneer at the modern apartment-house, television, big-city Christmas, with its commercial taint . . . office parties, artificial . . . Christmas trees . . . but future generations in search of their lost Christmases may well remember its innocence; yes, and its beauty, too.

Kittens can happen to anyone.

There is the little matter of disposal of droppings in which the cat is far ahead of its rivals. The dog is somehow thrilled by what he or any of his friends have produced, hates to leave it, adores smelling it, and sometimes eats it.

If you like cats and have some, you get kittens; and if you like kittens and enjoy having them about, they grow up and you get more cats.

No one can be as calculatedly rude as the British, which amazes Americans, who do not understand studied insult and can only offer abuse as a substitute.

It is only when you open your veins and bleed onto the page a little that you establish contact with your reader.