Certainty Generally Is Illusion, And Repose Is

To Brag Little, To Lose Well, / To Crow Gently If In Luck, / To Pay Up, To Own Up, / To Shut Up If Beaten, / Are The Virtues Of A Sportingman.

There Is One Gratification An Old Author Can Afford A Certain Class Of Critics; That Namely, Of Comparing Him As He Is With What He Was. It Is A Pleasure To Mediocrity To Have Its Superiors Brought Within Range.

On The Whole, I Am On The Side Of The Unregenerate Who Affirms The Worth Of Life As An End In Itself, As Against The Saints Who Deny It.

If I Were Dying, My Last Words Would Be: Have Faith And Pursue The Unknown End.

The Joy Of Life Is To Put Out One's Power In Some Natural And Useful Or Harmless Way. There Is No Other. And The Real Misery Is Not To Do This.