Now Is A Fact That Cannot Be

To A True-blue Professor Of Literature In An American University, Literature Is Not Something That A Plain Human Being, Living Today, Painfully Sits Down To Produce. No; It Is Something Dead.

Think How Much Better It Is To Criticize Conventional Customs If You Yourself Live Up To Them, Scrupulously.

When Audiences Come To See Us Authors Lecture, It Is Largely In The Hope That We'll Be Funnier To Look At Than To Read.

The World And All Its Wisdom Is But A Booby, Blundering School-boy That Needs Management And Could Be Managed, If Men And Women Would Be Human Beings Instead Of Just Business Men, Or Plumbers, Or Army Officers, Or Commuters, Or Educators, Or Authors, Or Clubwomen, Or Traveling Salesmen, Or Socialists, Or Republicans, Or Salvation Army Leaders, Or Wearers Of Cloths.

I Can Not Understand Why Ministers Presume To Deliver Sermons Every Week At Appointed Hours Because It Is Humanly Impossible For Inspirations To Come With Clock-like Regularity