The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
Life is divided into the horrible and the miserable.
The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
I went up the stairs cautiously, not able to use my hands.
Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.
Man is only miserable so far as he thinks himself so.
Keep your broken arm inside your sleeve.
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\'Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.\' Under the influence of this pestilent morality, I am forever letting tomorrow\'s work slop backwards into today\'s, and doing painfully and nervously today what I could do quickly and easily tomorrow.
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