Your Soul: Pure Glucose Edged

Winter Is The Time For Comfort, For Good Food And Warmth, For The Touch Of A Friendly Hand And For A Talk Beside The Fire: It Is The Time For Home. It Is No Season In Which To Wander The World As If One Were The Wind Blowing Aimlessly Along The Streets Without A Place To Rest, Without Food, And Without Time Meaning Anything To One, Just As Time Means Nothing To The Wind.

If One Is A Greyhound, Why Try To Look Like A Pekingese?

Good Taste Is The Worst Vice Ever Invented.

The Trouble With Most Englishwomen Is That They Will Dress As If They Had Been A Mouse In A Previous Incarnation... They Do Not Want To Attract Attention.

The Public Will Believe Anything, So Long As It Is Not Founded On Truth.