I know of no more disagreeable sensation than to be left feeling generally angry without anybody in particular to be angry at.

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

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

Talk ought always to run obliquely, not nose to nose with no chance of mental escape.

As crowds increase we build our forts of inattention, and the more we talk the easier it is to mean little and listen not at all.

Every man ought to be inquisitive through every hour of his great adventure down to the day when he shall no longer cast a shadow in the sun. For if he dies without a question in his heart, what excuse is there for his continuance?

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