To lovers of the long and intricate history of language the disuse and final death of certain words is a matter of regret. Yet every age bears witness to the inevitableness of such loss.
Christmas is not a date. It is a state of mind.
It is quite possible to leave your home for a walk in the early morning air and return a different person – beguiled, enchanted.
Suffering without understanding in this life is a heap worse than suffering when you have at least the grain of an idea what it’s all for.
Even one’s yesterdays could not continue to stir and move in a man’s mind unless there were a future for those yesterdays to make.
There is no substitute for books in the life of a child.
Manual labor to my father was not only good and decent for it’s own sake but, as he was given to saying, it straightened out one’s thoughts.
Of all the excellent teachers of college English whom I have known I have never discovered one who knew precisely what he was doing. Therein have lain their power and their charm.
Whatever laudable qualities the English may possess in their selection, preparation, and consumption of food, elegance, originality, diversity, and imagination are not among them.
The greatest danger in any argument is that real issues often clouded by superficial ones, that momentary passions may obscure permanent realities.