The First Sign Of Extravagance Is To

Mark Twain Said (particularly About Pink Marsh): "i Have Been Reading Him Again, And My Admiration Overflows All Limits. ... How Effortless The Limning! It Is As If The Work Did Itself, Without Help Of The Master's Hand."

One Cannot Rest Except After Steady Practice.

In The City A Funeral Is Just An Interruption Of Traffic; In The Country It Is A Form Of Popular Entertainment.

A Friend Who Is Near And Dear May In Time Become As Useless As A Relative.

I Got The Breaks. Starting From Nowhere In The Corn Belt, I Helped Edit A Country Weekly, Then Was Jack-of-all-departments On An Obscure Daily, So That When I Arrived In A Big City Everything I Tackled In The Line Of Column Conducting And Syndicate Peddling And Playwriting Had To Bring Promotion, Because I Had No Social Standing Which Could Be Endangered, No Reputation To Toss Away And No Pride Which Might Suffer A Setback. Everything I Acquired Had To Be Velvet. You Cannot Lose Your Silver Spoon If You Are Brought Up On Pewter.