The world is a play that would not be worth seeing if we knew the plot.

In middle life politics are not a mental acquisition; they are a temperament.

Women singly do a good deal of harm. Women in bulk are chastening.

You cannot find, make or understand true friendship without having enemies.

Distaste sounds more emphatic when expressed as moral disapproval. With most of us the moral counterblast is nothing more than the angry rendering of a yawn.

That is the consolation of a little mind; you have the fun of changing it without impeding the progress of mankind.

The New York playgoer is a child of nature, and he has an honest and wholesome regard of whatever is atrocious in art.