As the pupil of the scholastic teacher Albertus Magnus (Albert the Great) in Paris, Saint Thomas Aquinas made a poor impression on his fellow students, who nicknamed him "the dumb ox." Albertus summoned him to a private interview at which they discussed all the subjects in the university curriculum. At the next lecture the master announced: "You call your brother Thomas a dumb ox; let me tell you that one day the whole world will listen to his bellowings."

A young journalist was requested to write some-thing about the Zenana Mission. He assured the readers of the paper that among the many scenes of missionary labour, none had of late attracted more attention than the Zenana Mission, and assuredly none was more deserving of this attention. Comparatively few years had passed since Zenana had been opened up to British trade, but already, owing to the devotion of a handful of men and women; the nature of the inhabitants had been almost entirely changed. The Zenanese, from being a savage people, had become, in a wonderfully short space of time, practically civilized; and recent travellers to Zenana had returned with the most glowing accounts of the continued progress of the good work in that country. He then branched off into the "labourer-worthy-of-his-hire" side of this great work, and the question was aptly asked if the devoted labourers in that re-mote vineyard were not deserving of support. Were civilization and Christianity to be snatched from the Zenanese just when both were within their grasp? So on for nearly half a column the writer meandered in the most orthodox style, just as he had done scores of times before when advocating certain missions. Someone who found him the next day running his finger down the letter Z, in the index to the "Handy Atlas," with a puzzled look upon his face, knew he had had a letter from the editor

Childless himself, the redoubtable Alexander Woollcott was, on 19 occasions, godparent to the children of friends. At the baptism of Mary MacArthur, daughter of Charles MacArthur and Helen Hayes, Woollcott was heard to exclaim with characteristic gusto: "Always a godfather, never a god!"

King of Kings

"[The famed financier] Otto Kahn went with Cecil de Mille to see his picture The King of Kings. The tour de force of this picture was a representation of the Dance of the Golden Calf. He sat back in the darkness watching an indiscriminate whirl of limbs. De Mille said to him, 'Do you know how many people there are in that scene?' 'No, I haven't any idea?' 'Two thousand five hundred’ and then, 'What do you think of that?'
"'Nothing,' was Otto Khan's reply.
"De Mille was not pleased.’ You’re highbrow,' he said.
"Khan turned to de Mille.’ Have you ever seen Velasquez's picture of the Surrender or Breda?' 'No.'
"'If you look at that picture,' said Khan, 'you will have an impression in the background of a forest of spears and lances. If you count them you will find that there are precisely eighteen.' He smiled sweetly at de Mille through the darkness and then added, 'Velasquez was an artist.'"

Entering a crowded restaurant with a companion, Gregory Peck found no table available. "Tell them who you are," murmured the friend. "If you have to tell them who you are, you aren't anybody," said Peck.