What, for some, is sin, others do to the glory of God. And the good Dr. Pentecost’s remarks notwithstanding , I intend to go home tonight and smoke a cigar to the glory of God. It is a kind of incense drifting to Heaven.

Everything was a trap: women, drugs, whiskey, wine, scotch, beer – even beer – cigars, and cigarettes. Traps: Work or no work. Traps: Artistry or no artistry; everything sucked you into some spiderweb. I disdained the use of the needle for the same reason that I disdained some so-called beautiful women – the price was far beyond the measure of the worth. I didn’t want to hustle that hard.

First dentistry was painless.Then bicycles were chainless,Carriages were horseless,And many laws enforceless.Next cookery was fireless,Telegraphy was wireless,Cigars were nicotineless,And coffee caffeineless.Soon oranges were seedless,The putting green was weedless,The college boy was hatless,The proper diet fatless.New motor roads are dustless,The latest steel is rustless,Our tennis courts are sodless,Our new religion–godless.

Any man who doesn’t partake in cigar smoking is nothing more than a weak-willed, meandering oaf, and I would never put my lips to those of any creature, man or beast, whose lips were not fresh awash in the currents of cigar smoke.’

A good cigar is as great a comfort to a man as a good cry to a woman.

Sex after 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope. Even putting my cigar in its holder is a thrill.