On The Same Bill And On The

What We Call Creative Work, Ought Not To Be Called Work At All, Because It Isn't. I Imagine That Thomas Edison Never Did A Day's Work In His Last Fifty Years.

We Can No Longer Communicate With The Apes By Direct Language, Nor Can We Understand, Without Special Study, Their Modes Of Communication Which We Have Long Since Replaced By More Elaborate Forms. But It Is At Least Presumable That They Could Still Detect In Our Speech, At Least When It Is Public And Elaborate, The Underlying Tone Values With Which It Began. Thus If We Could Take A Gibbon Ape To A College Public Lecture, He Would Not Understand It, But He Would "get A Good Deal Of It." This Is All The Students Get Anyway.

The Victorians Needed Parody. Without It Their Literature Would Have Been A Rank And Weedy Growth, Over-watered With Tears.

A Sportsman Is A Man Who, Every Now And Then, Simply Has To Get Out And Kill Something.

We Think Of The Noble Object For Which The Professor Appears Tonight, We May Be Assured That The Lord Will Forgive Any One Who Will Laugh At The Professor.