To Some Will Come A

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

The Typical Entrepreneur Is No Longer The Bold And Tireless Man Of Marshall, Or The Sly And Rapacious Moneybags Of Marx, But A Mass Of Inert Shareholders, Indistinguishable From Rentiers, Who Employ Salaried Managers To Run Their Concerns.

For When A Woman Is Left Too Much Alone, Sooner Or Later She Begins To Think; And No Man Knows What Then She May Discover.

Love Must Have Wings To Fly Away From Love, And To Fly Back Again.

Pity Is Like A Knife, Sometimes, And It May Pierce One Who Employs It More Shrewdly Than The Victim It Would Save.