Christmas is built upon a beautiful and intentional paradox; that the birth of the homeless should be celebrated in every home.

But whenever one meets modern thinkers (as one often does) progressing toward a madhouse, one always finds, on inquiry, that they have just had a splendid escape from another madhouse. Thus, hundreds of people become Socialists, not because they have tried Socialism and found it nice, but because they have tried Individualism and found it particularly nasty.

A fairly clear line separated advertisement from art. ... The first effect of the triumph of the capitalist (if we allow him to triumph) will be that that line of demarcation will entirely disappear. There will be no art that might not just as well be advertisement.

Progress is the mother of all problems.

He can only get away from death by continually stepping within an inch of it.

The miser is the man who starves himself and everybody else, in order to worship wealth in its dead form, as distinct from its living form.

I think the oddest thing about the advanced people is that, while they are always talking about things as problems, they have hardly any notion of what a real problem is.