The Delusions Of The Past Seem Fond

This Is The Sphinx Of The Hearthstone, The Little God Of Domesticity, Whose Presence Turns A House Into A Home.

It Is Not Every Tourist Who Bubbles Over With Mirth, And That Unquenchable Spirit Of Humor Which Turns A Trial Into A Blessing.

It Is In His Pleasure That A Man Really Lives; It Is From His Leisure That He Constructs The True Fabric Of Self.

There Are Few Things More Wearisome In A Fairly Fatiguing Life Than The Monotonous Repetition Of A Phrase Which Catches And Holds The Public Fancy By Virtue Of Its Total Lack Of Significance.

The Sanguine Assurance That Men And Nations Can Be Legislated Into Goodness, That Pressure From Without Is Equivalent To A Moral Change Within, Needs A Strong Backing Of Inexperience.