That It Would Always Be Summer And

The Beggarly Question Of Parentage--what Is It, After All? What Does It Matter, When You Come To Think Of It, Whether A Child Is Yours By Blood Or Not? All The Little Ones Of Our Time Are Collectively The Children Of Us Adults Of The Time, And Entitled To Our General Care. That Excessive Regard Of Parents For Their Own Children, And Their Dislike Of Other People's, Is, Like Class-feeling, Patriotism, Save-your-own-soul-ism, And Other Virtues, A Mean Exclusiveness At Bottom.

If Galileo Had Said In Verse That The World Moved, The Inquisition Might Have Let Him Alone.

Some Women's Love Of Being Loved Is Insatiable; And So, Often, Is Their Love Of Loving; And In The Last Case They May Find That They Can't Give It Continuously To The Chamber-officer Appointed By The Bishop's License To Receive It.

The Business Of The Poet And The Novelist Is To Show The Sorriness Underlying The Grandest Things And The Grandeur Underlying The Sorriest Things.

And Yet To Every Bad There Is A Worse.