Perhaps Samuel Johnson was a great man; he was certainly a drumbling one.

Recognize the cunning man not by the corpses he pays homage to but by the living writers he conspires against with the most shameful weapon, Silence, or the briefest review.

Everything ultimately fails, for we die, and that is either the penultimate failure or our most enigmatical achievement.

The majority of persons choose their wives with as little prudence as they eat. They see a troll with nothing else to recommend her but a pair of thighs and choice hunkers, and so smart to void their seed that they marry her at once. They imagine they can live in marvelous contentment with handsome feet and ambrosial buttocks. Most men are accredited fools shortly after they leave the womb.

It is hideous and coarse to assume that we can do something for others-and it is vile not to endeavor to do it.

One of the weaknesses in the cooperative is that it has never been sufficiently leavened by the imagination. This is a quick-silver faculty, and likely to be a cause of worry to any collective settlement.

Writing is conscience, scruple, and the farming of our ancestors.