The Only Reason For Being Young Is

I Found Nothing Really Wrong With This Autobiography Except Poor Choice Of Subject.

The Kind Of Poetry To Avoid In The Pretty-pretty Kind That Pleased Our Grandmothers, The Kind That Longfellow And Tennyson, Good Poets At Their Best, Wrote At Their Worst.

Being A Child Is In Itself A Profession.

A Man Who Is Careful With His Palate Is Not Likely To Be Careless With His Paragraphs.

A Bottle Of Wine Begs To Be Shared; I Have Never Met A Miserly Wine Lover. The Social Emotions It Generates Are Equidistant From The Philatelist's Solitary Gloating And The Football Fan's Gregarious Hysteria.