Progress is the mother of all problems.

The Frenchman works until he can play. The American works until he can’t play; and then thanks the devil, his master, that he is donkey enough to die in harness. But the Englishman, as he has since become, works until he can pretend that he never worked at all.

All the exaggerations are right, if they exaggerate the right thing.

It is because artists do not practise, patrons do not patronize, crowds do not assemble to reverently worship the great work of Doing Nothing, that the world has lost its philosophy and even failed to invent a new religion.

Our digestions, going sacredly and silently right, that is the foundation of all poetry.

A really great person is the person who makes every person feel great.

No sceptical philosopher can ask any questions that may not equally be asked by a tired child on a hot afternoon.