Miss My Daily Mass, And Have A

The Superior Thing ... Was To Be Late. Lateness Showed That Serene Contempt For The Illusion We Call Time Which Is So Necessary To Ensure The Respect Of Others And Oneself. Only The Servile Are Punctual.

How Agreeable To Watch, From The Other Side Of The High Stile, This Mighty Creature, This Fat Bull Of Bashan, Snorting, Champing, Pawing The Earth, Lashing The Tail, Breathing Defiance At Heaven And At Me ... His Heart Hot With Hate, Unable To Climb A Stile.

Love's A Disease. But Curable.

The Position Of Women, That Sad And Well-nigh Universal Blot On Civilizations, Was Never Far From Her Mind.

Words Move, Turning Over Like Tumbling Clowns; Like Certain Books And Like Fleas, They Possess Activity. All Men Equally Have The Right To Say, 'this Word Shall Bear This Meaning,' And See If They Can Get It Across. It Is A Sporting Game, Which All Can Play, Only All Cannot Win.