Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever.

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true; And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow too; For no form of a god, and no fashion Man has made in his desperate passion, But is worthy some worship of mine; Not too hot with a gross belief, Nor yet too cold with pride, I will bow me down where my brothers bow, Humble, but open eyed.

The most pleasant and useful persons are those who leave some of the problems of the universe for God to worry about.

By the time a bartender knows what drink a man will have before he orders, there is little else about him worth knowing.

Vibrations are the key to everything. Atoms used to be, but atoms have quite gone out.

Insects have their own point of view about civilization a man thinks he amounts to a great deal but to a flea or a mosquito a human being is merely something good to eat.

The art of newspaper paragraphing is to stroke a platitude until it purrs like an epigram.