There Is Poetry In A Pork Chop

It Is Better To Give Than To Lend, And It Costs About The Same.

It Was So Quiet That Morning In Paris That The Heels Of My Two Companions And Myself Were Loud On The Deserted Pavements. It Was A City Of Shuttered Shops, And Barred Windows, And Deserted Avenues.

In Less Than Twenty-five Years . . . The Motor-car Will Be Obsolete, Because The Aeroplane Will Run Along The Ground As Well As Fly Over It.

It Was Announced As A French Victory By The French Minister Of War. I Did Not See Any Sign Of Victory But Only The Retreat Of The French Forces Engaged In The Battle.

There Is Poetry In A Pork Chop To A Hungry Man.