Tomorrow will come and today will pass, / But the hearts of the young are brittle as glass.

Who could deny that privacy is a jewel? It has always been the mark of privilege, the distinguishing feature of a truly urbane culture. Out of the cave, the tribal teepee, the pueblo, the community fortress, man emerged to build himself a house of his own with a shelter in it for himself and his diversions. Every age has seen it so. The poor might have to huddle together in cities for need's sake, and the frontiersman cling to his neighbors for the sake of protection. But in each civilization, as it advanced, those who could afford it chose the luxury of a withdrawing-place.

It is the leisured, I have noticed, who rebel the most at an interruption of routine.

Tomorrow will come and today will pass, / But the hearts of the young are brittle as glass.

Of the small gifts of heaven, / It seems to me a more than equal share / At birth was given / To girls with curly hair.

Of one thing I am certain, the body is not the measure of healing, peace is the measure.

How happy is the Optimist / To whom life shows its sunny side / His horse may lose, his ship may list, / But he always sees the funny side.