All wines are by their very nature full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.

All wines are by their very nature full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.

To all of us the thought of heaven is dear -Why not be sure of it and make it here?No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,But 'tis so far away - and you are near.Men talk of heaven, - there is no heaven but here;Men talk of hell, - there is no hell but here;Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,O love, there is no other life - but here.

Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.

You can't fake it. Bad writing is a gift.

A critic is a man created to praise greater men than himself, but he is never able to find them.

We also maintain - again with perfect truth - that mystery is more than half of beauty, the element of strangeness that stirs the senses through the imagination.