O, Merry Is The Optimist, With The

To Be A Housewife Is A Difficult, A Wrenching, Sometimes An Ungrateful Job If It Is Looked On Only As A Job. Regarded As A Profession, It Is The Noblest As It Is The Most Ancient Of The Catalogue. Let None Persuade Us Differently Or The World Is Lost Indeed.

Sometimes I Have A Notion That What Might Improve The Situation Is To Have Women Take Over The Occupations Of Government And Trade And To Give Men Their Freedom.

A Hobby A Day Keeps The Doldrums Away.

Women Are The Fulfilled Sex. Through Our Children We Are Able To Produce Our Own Immortality, So We Lack That Divine Restlessness Which Sends Men Charging Off In Pursuit Of Fortune Or Fame Or An Imagined Utopia. That Is Why We Number So Few Geniuses Among Us. The Wholesome Oyster Wears No Pearl, The Healthy Whale No Ambergris, And As Long As We Can Keep On Adding To The Race, We Harbor A Sort Of Health Within Ourselves.

One Applauds The Industry Of Professional Philanthropy. But It Has Its Dangers. After A While The Private Heart Begins To Harden. We Fling Letters Into The Wastebasket, Are Abrupt To Telephoned Solicitations. Charity Withers In The Incessant Gale.