"The critic leaves at curtain fall To find, in starting to review it, He scarcely saw the play at all..." — E. B. White

All we need is a meteorologist who has once been soaked to the skin without ill effect. No one can write knowingly of the weather who walks bent over on wet days.

The terror of the atom age is not the violence of the new power but the speed of man's adjustment to it, the speed of his acceptance.

The world organization debates disarmament in one room and, in the next room, moves the knights and pawns that make national arms imperative.

A writer is like a bean plant - he has his little day, and then gets stringy.