By rights, satire is a lonely and introspective occupation, for nobody can describe a fool to the life without much patient self-inspection.

Clever people seem not to feel the natural pleasure of bewilderment, and are always answering questions when the chief relish of a life is to go on asking them.

Politics is a place of humble hopes and strangely modest requirements, where all are good who are not criminal and all are wise who are not ridiculously otherwise.

When temptations march monotonously in regiments, one waits for to pass.

As wounded men may limp through life, so our war minds may not regain the balance of their thoughts for decades.

Sin in this country has been always said to be rather calculating than impulsive.

Literary people are forever judging the quality of the mind by the turn of expression.