I have no money, no wife, no auto. I have no dog. I have neither a radio set nor a rubber plant — I have no troubles. I borrow money from my friends in a pinch, ride in their machines, listen to their radios, make friends with their dogs, admire their flowers, and praise their wives’ cooking. If I could wish for anything else it would be a little more moderation, a little more tolerance, and a little more of the trustful innocence of that boy who learned his prayers at the knee of the gentle, kindly old priest in the Sisters’ Convent School.
