This Is A Test. It Is Only

Anyone Can Do Any Amount Of Work, Provided It Isn't The Work He Is Supposed Be Doing At That Moment.

Next To An Old-fashioned Church Social, Or Possibly A Monster Bridge Party, There Is No Buzz Which Can Equal The Sibilant Buzz Ofa Matinée.

A Child Of Three Cannot Raise Its Chubby Fist To Its Mouth To Remove A Piece Of Carpet Which It Is Through Eating, Without Being Made The Subject Of A Psychological Seminar Of Child-welfare Experts, And Written Up, Along With Five Hundred Other Children Of Three Who Have Put Their Hands To Their Mouths For The Same Reason.

Next To A Shot Of Some Good, Habit-forming Narcotic, There Is Nothing Like Travelling Alone As A 'builder-upper.

Work Is A Form Of Nervousness.