We Cannot Get Grace From Gadgets.

I Fancy That The Hell Of Too Many People Would Occupy A Respectable Place In The Hierarchy Of Infernal Regions.

If You Are A Genius, You'll Make Your Own Rules, But If Not - And The Odds Are Against It - Go To Your Desk No Matter What Your Mood, Face The Icy Challenge Of The Paper - Write.

There Is Romance, The Genuine Glinting Stuff, In Typewriters, And Not Merely In Their Development From Clumsy Giants Into Agile Dwarfs, But In The History Of Their Manufacture, Which Is Filled With Raids, Battles, Lonely Pioneers, Great Gambles, Hope, Fear, Despair, Triumph. If Some Of Our Novels Could Be Written By The Typewriters Instead Of On Them, How Much Better They Would Be.

The Real Lost Souls Don't Wear Their Hair Long And Play Guitars. They Have Crew Cuts And Trained Minds, Sign On For Research In Biological Warfare, And Don't Give Their Parents A Moment's Worry.

One Of The Delights Beyond The Grasp Of Youth Is That Of Not Going. Not To Have An Invitation For The Dance, The Party, The Picnic, The Excursion Is To Be Diminished. To Have An Invitation And Then Not To Be Able To Go -- Oh Cursed Spite! Now I Do Not Care The Rottenest Fig Whether I Receive An Invitation Or Not. After Years Of Illusion, I Finally Decided I Was Missing Nothing By Not Going. I No Longer Care Whether I Am Missing Anything Or Not.