Everybody's Tragedy Is Somebody's Nuisance.

Youth Knows No Remedy For Grief But Death.

Progress. There's A Good Deal Too Much O' This Progress About Nowadays, An', What's More, It'll Have To Stop.

I Am Much Perturbed By This Business Of Sickness. Our Bodies Seem So Easily To Leap Into The Saddle Where Our Minds Should Be. People Who Are Ill Become Changelings.

The Things That One Most Wants To Do Are The Things That Are Probably Most Worth Doing.

What With The Reviews Of Critics, The Sarcasms Of One's Friends, The Reproaches Of One's Own Taste, There's Precious Little Peace After Publishing A Book.