The difficulty about all this dying, is that you can't tell a fellow anything about it, so where does the fun come in?

I make it a rule always to believe compliments implicitly for five minutes, and to simmer gently for twenty more.

How sick one gets of being "good," how much I should respect myself if I could burst out and make everyone wretched for twenty-four hours; embody selfishness.

You must remember that a woman, by nature, needs much less to feed upon than a man, a few emotions and she is satisfied.

How fatally the entire want of humor cripples the mind.

Though I have no productive worth, I have a certain value as an indestructible quantity.

Destitution and excessive luxury develop apparently the same ideals, the same marauding attitude towards mankind, the intensity of struggle for material goods, -- surely showing how perfect is the meeting of extremes.