This Is The Sphinx Of The Hearthstone,

There Is A Secret And Wholesome Conviction In The Heart Of Every Man Or Woman Who Has Written A Book That It Should Be No Easy Matter For An Intelligent Reader To Lay Down That Book Unfinished. There Is A Pardonable Impression Among Reviewers That Half An Hour In Its Company Is Sufficient.

Whereas The Dog Strives To Lessen The Distance Between Himself And Man, Seeks Ever To Be Intelligent And Intelligible, And Translates Into Looks And Actions The Words He Cannot Speak, The Cat Dwells Within The Circle Of Her Own Secret Thoughts.

Who That Has Plodded On To Middle Age Would Take Back Upon His Shoulders Ten Of The Vanished Years, With Their Mingled Pleasures And Pains? Who Would Return To The Youth He Is Forever Pretending To Regret?

If History In The Making Be A Fluid Thing, It Swiftly Crystallizes.

People Who Pin Their Faith To A Catchword Never Feel The Necessity Of Understanding Anything.