But What's The Good Of

What's The Use, There Never Was A Woman Living Who Could Understand Political Ideas.

A Man Is Never More His Single Separate Self Than When He Sets Out On A Journey.

Time Has An Undertaking Establishment On Every Block And Drives His Coffin Nails Faster Than The Steam Riveters Rivet Or The Stenographers Type Or The Tickers Tick Out Fours And Eights And Dollar Signs And Ciphers.

But What's The Good Of Freedom? What Can You Do With It? What One Wants Is To Live Well And Have A Beautiful House And Be Respected By People.

Hemingway Always Used To Bawl Me Out For Including So Much Topical Stuff. He Always Claimed That Was A Great Mistake, That In Fifty Years Nobody Would Understand. He May Have Been Right; It's Getting To Be True.