Genius, like truth, has a shabby and neglected mien.
Who has enough credit in this world to pay for his mistakes?
A man who can be entertaining for a full day will be in his grave by night-fall.
To write is a humiliation.
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.
Though man is the only beast that can write, he has small reason to be proud of it. When he utters something that is wise it is nothing that the river horse does not know, and most of his creations are the result of accident.