A real dog, beloved and therefore pampered by his mistress, is a lamentable spectacle. He suffers from fatty degeneration of his moral being.

We may fail of our happiness, strive we ever so bravely; but we are less likely to fail if we measure with judgement our chances and our capabilities.

A puppy is but a dog, plus high spirits, and minus common sense.

What monstrous absurdities and paradoxes have resisted whole batteries of serious arguments, and then crumbled swiftly into dust before the ringing death-knell of a laugh!

Laughter springs from the lawless part of our nature.

It is in his pleasure that a man really lives; it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.

People who cannot recognize a palpable absurdity are very much in the way of civilization.