The pioneer kills what he loves.

One of the stock Sydney jokes is of the census-taker who enquires: 'How many children have you, ma'am?' 'Two living and three in Melbourne.'

[... vastly different peoples live and work side by side but rarely come together, like the arms of an egg beater that] whirled independently and never touched, so that perhaps one arm never knew the other was there yet they were together, turned by the same handle, and the cake was mixed by both.

The great point about money was to convert it as quickly as possible into something you could use or enjoy.

How much does one imagine, how much observe? One can no more separate those functions than divide light from air, or wetness from water.