The Man Who Has No Problems Is

When You Once Attribute Effects To The Will Of A Personal God, You Have Let In A Lot Of Little Gods And Evils - Then Sprites, Fairies, Dryads, Naiads, Witches, Ghosts And Goblins, For Your Imagination Is Reeling, Riotous, Drunk, Afloat On The Flotsam Of Superstition. What You Know Then Doesn't Count. You Just Believe, And The More Your Believe The More Do You Plume Yourself That Fear And Faith Are Superior To Science And Seeing.

The Man Who Doesn't Relax And Hoot A Few Hoots Voluntarily, Now And Then, Is In Great Danger Of Hooting Hoots And Standing On His Head For The Edification Of The Pathologist And Trained Nurse, A Little Later On.

If Men Could Only Know Each Other, They Would Neither Idolize Nor Hate.

Man Is Not What He Thinks He Is, But What He Thinks, He Is.

Nothing Is Permanent But Change.