Miss My Daily Mass, And Have A

I Can Think Of Few Things More Disastrous Than Starting A New Correspondence With Any One. Letters Are A Burden Indeed ... They Seem Often The Last Straw That Breaks The Back ... You Should See The Piles Of Those That I Must Answer That Litter And Weight My Writing Table.

What About Christianity? Are We Right In The Face Of So Long A Record Of Its Poverty In International Achievement, To Keep Invoking It As A Standard, Almost Synonymous With Civilization?

Work Is A Dull Thing; You Cannot Get Away From That. The Only Agreeable Existence Is One Of Idleness, And That Is Not, Unfortunately, Always Compatible With Continuing To Exist At All.

The Manuscript May Go Forth From The Writer To Return With A Faithfulness Passing The Faithfulness Of The Boomerang Or The Homing Pigeon.

Still I Sojourn Here, Alone And Palely Loitering, Though The Sedge Is Withered From The Lake And No Birds Sing. For I Sent The Bath Towel To The Wash This Morning, And Omitted To Put Out Another. I Have No Towel.