It is never too late to become what you might have been. -George Eliot.

For in the multitude of middle-aged men who go about their vocations in a daily course determined for them much in the same way as the tie of their cravats, there is always a good number who once meant to shape their own deeds and alter the world a little. The story of their coming to be shapen after the average and fit to be packed by the gross, is hardly ever told even in their consciousness; for perhaps their ardour in generous unpaid toil cooled as imperceptibly as the ardour of other youthful loves, till one day their earlier self walked like a ghost in its old home and made the new furniture ghastly. Nothing in the world more subtle than the process of their gradual change! In the beginning they inhaled it unknowingly: you and I may have sent some of our breath towards infecting them, when we uttered our conforming falsities or drew our silly conclusions: or perhaps it came with the vibrations from a woman's glance.

That's a change in the attitude from a week, two weeks, a month ago, ... We've made progress. I think the Army is giving these ladies the proper respect.

It is easy to say how we love new friends, and what we think of them, but words can never trace out all the fibers that knit us to the old.

Hostesses who entertain much must make up their parties as ministers make up their cabinets, on grounds other than personal liking.

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.