It may be that them whose pleasure brings you into this world owes you a living, but it don’t mean the world is responsible.

He looked pleased. “I reckon,” he said, “I couldn’t be so good if I wasn’t bad onced in a while.

Dr. MacBride had a manner of saying “pardon me,” which rendered forgiveness well-nigh impossible.

But this I can say: to call any act evil, instantly begs the question. Many an act that man does is right or wrong according to the time and place which form, so to speak, its context; strip it of its surrounding circumstances, and you tear away its meaning.

When a man ain’t got no ideas of his own, he’d ought to be kind o’ careful who he borrows ’em from.

You are speakin’ low like me,” he answered. “But we have no dream we can wake from.

Well, he took dying as naturally as he took living. Like a man should. Like I hope to.” Again he looked at the pictures in his mind. “No play-acting nor last words. He just told good-by to the boys as we led his horse under the limb.

Go on so! I don’t reckon yu’ know what you’re sayin’. Yu’ might as well ask fruit to stay green. If the way we are now can keep bein’ enough for you, it can’t for me. A pleasure to you, is it? Well, to me it is – I don’t know what to call it. I come to yu’ and I hate it, and I come again and I hate it, and I ache and grieve all over when I go. No! You will have to think of some other way than just invitin’ me to keep green.

The creature we call a GENTLEMAN lies deep in the hearts of thousands that are born without chance to master the outward graces of the type.

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is? Has it anywhere been set down in how many ways this seed may be sown? In what various vessels of gossamer it can float across wide spaces? Or upon what different soils it can fall, and live unknown, and bide its time for blooming?