Old Age Has Its Pleasures,

The Worst Of Having So Much Tact Was That You Never Quite Knew Whether Other People Were Acting Naturally Or Being Tactful Too. [the Human Element]

A Man Who Is A Politician At Forty Is A Statesman At Three Score And Ten. It Is At This Age, When He Would Be Too Old To Be A Clerk Or A Gardener Or A Police-court Magistrate, That He Is Ripe To Govern A Country.

Perfection Is A Trifle Dull. It Is Not The Least Of Life's Ironies That This, Which We All Aim At, Is Better Not Quite Achieved.

Sometimes A Man Hits Upon A Place To Which He Mysteriously Feels That He Belongs.

The Officers Saluted As She Passed And Gravely Bowed. They Walked Back Across The Courtyard And Got Into Their Chairs. She Saw Waddington Light A Cigarette. A Little Smoke Lost In The Air, That Was The Life Of A Man.