The one conclusive argument that has at all times discouraged people from drinking a poison is not that it kills but rather that it tastes bad.

He who does not lie does not know what truth is.

One should adpot only those situations in which one is in no need of sham virtues, but rather, like the tight-rope dancer on his tight rope, in which one must either fall or stand--or escape.

All idealists imagine that the causes they serve are fundamentally better than any other causes in the world, and they refuse to believe that if their cause is to flourish at all it requires precisely the same foul-smelling manure that is necessary to all other human undertakings.

There is not enough love and goodness in the world to permit giving any of it away to imaginary beings.

Natural death is independent of all reason and is really an irrational death, in which the pitiable substance of the shell determines how long the kernel is to exist or not; in which, accordingly, the stunted, diseased and dull witted jailer is lord, and indicates the moment at which his distinguished prisoner shall die.

We set no special value on the possession of a virtue until we percieve that it is entirely lacking in our adversary.