Utility is our national shibboleth: the savior of the American businessman is fact and his uterine half-brother, statistics.

Of all the animals on earth, none is so brutish as man when he seeks the delirium of coition.

The bad poet is a toady mimicking nature.

Intellectual sodomy, which comes from the refusal to be simple about plain matters, is as gross and abundant today as sexual perversion and they are nowise different from one another.

We are uneasy with an affectionate man, for we are positive he wants something of us, particularly our love.

Evil, which is our companion all our days, is not to be treated as a foe. It is wrong to cocker vice, but we grow narrow and pithless if we are furtive about it, for this is at best a pretense, and the sage knows good and evil are kindred. The worst of men harm others, and the best injure themselves.

Men are mad most of their lives; few live sane, fewer die so. The acts of people are baffling unless we realize that their wits are disordered. Man is driven to justice by his lunacy.