Seemingly unreasonable people attempt to adapt the world to themselves. Much progress, therefore, depends on such people.

Those who understand the steam engine and the electric telegraph spend their lives in trying to replace them with something better.

Men have to do some awfully mean things to keep up their respectability.

To a mathematician the eleventh means only a single unit: to the bushman who cannot count further than his ten fingers it is an incalculable myriad.

We are sick of war, we don't want to fight, And yet we gorge ourselves upon the dead.

The Englishmen is at his best on the links and at his worst in the Cabinet.

To me the sole hope of human salvation lies in teaching.