Wise or Otherwise | Page 8

serenade gives tone to the back yard.
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Mental problem. Suicide or side-tracked. Which?
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The laugh of a child is sweeter to God than a forty minute prayer.
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The Klondike is as alluring as a pretty woman and equally as freakish.
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The greatness of the Yukon is only surpassed by the greatness of its liars.
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Innocence is a rose bud with a worm outside waiting to gnaw a hole in it.
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A blood-sucker on a boy's toe looks bigger to him than a sea-serpent to a man.
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An Easter bonnet is more satisfying to a woman than the most eloquent sermon.
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The witch doctor taboos a banana tree, the parson the joyous dance. Both are bigots.
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The nigger who has learned to drink rum does not regard civilization as an unmixed blessing.
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The beautiful is eternal.
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An epitaph. "He went North and found his grave."
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The cold marble becomes a living flame under the hands of the sculptor.
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We cannot turn water into wine but some men come very near turning wine into water.
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The coral shell stores up the glorious tints of the sun's rays--the thoughtful man the words of the wise.
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A returned Klondiker with gold very much resembles charity--frequently read of, seldom seen.
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Whence comes eternal truths? They are written in the rocks, they are breathed out of the soft, South wind; they are painted in the sunset, they speak in the flowers and the tiny blade of grass, they twinkle in distant stars. Ages go by and yet man grasps but one, here and there. They are messengers to every man, gifted or untaught. He who seizes but one and embalms it has done a greater service to mankind than the mightiest king.
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Prohibition is a frozen dream, real life a red-hot time.
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Inquisitiveness is but another name for the Auditor General.
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Capital account is a cavern wherein politicians hide their sins.
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The summer girl, in the biggest wind, is never blown away from a man.
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The editor writes most charmingly of country life in his easiest chair.
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Church choirs are always at sixes and sevens. One day of harmony and six of discord.
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A young widow's sorrow for her husband is a phantom minnow--looks genuine but hides the hook.
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While the bankrupt tradesman rides in his carriage, his honest competitor is in the back yard sawing wood.
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The uglier a woman's face, the nearer to her chin is the hem of her bathing skirt, no doubt to hide her blushes.
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The French are steadfast of purpose. What purpose? Changing the Ministry!
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English poet in the Soudan,--"We are carrying 'Sweetness and light' into darkest Africa!"
Tommy,--"Yes, we let the light in with the Lee-Metford and the Egyptian tax-collector will sweeten these coves later on."
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Mayor of New York,--"We must return the 'Torch of Liberty' by the first French steamer."
"What for?"
"To dispel the Dreyfus gloom."
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Irate Mother-in-law (to son-in-law about to marry second wife),--"Is this the way you treat my daughter, lying in the dark grave?"
"Only striking a match to see into it."
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Out of the loins of pride and avarice comes the innocent child. Why is this? It cannot be chance. It means something. When we discover what that something is we shall remain innocent.
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Greed grasps while poverty gasps.
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The agony of despair breeds the monster, 'Human Hate.'
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The man who refuses to lend to the Lord distrusts the security.
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The blood of the pauper shall smear the couch of the indolent.
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The sweat of the poor, frozen into gold, gilds the rich man's purse.
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The time must come when the dragon's teeth, sown by the rich, will bring forth a harvest of cold steel.
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Mother in the kitchen at the wash tub. Daughter in the parlor at the piano. Quite proper; its a case of rub-a-dub-dub.
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Why came we here? By blind chance or design? The books are full of guesses, half-truths and lies. We only know that we are here. From whence we came and whither we go is the problem. Being here, our highest endeavors should be to do some little good. Then close our eyes and wait for the