Pressed For Rules And Verities, All I

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.

Compromise, If Not The Spice Of Life, Is Its Solidity. It Is What Makes Nations Great And Marriages Happy

Seventy Is Wormwood, Seventy Is Gall But Its Better To Be Seventy, Than Not Alive At All.

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.

The Thing To Remember About Fathers Is, They're Men. A Girl Has To Keep It In Mind: They Are Dragon Seekers, Bent On Improbable Rescues. Scratch Any Father, You Find Someone Chock - Full Of Qualms And Romantic Terrors, Believing Change Is A Threat - Like Your First Shoes With Heels On, Like Your First Bicycle I Took Such Months To Get.