In the arts of life main invents nothing; but in the arts of death he outdoes Nature herself, and produces by chemistry and machinery all the slaughter of plague, pestilence and famine. ... There is nothing in Man's industrial machinery but his greed and sloth: his heart is in his weapons.

The road to ignorance is paved with good editors.

I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else.

We don't bother much about dress and manners in England, because as a nation we don't dress well and we've no manners.

For nearly twenty years I have been a published author... But I have never yet seen a book of mine offered for sale in a shop window.

There are no secrets better kept than the secrets everybody guesses.

I'm only a beer teetotaller, not a champagne teetotaller.