There are some people who read too much: the bibliobibuli. I know some who are constantly drunk on books, as other men are drunk on whiskey or religion. They wander through this most diverting and stimulating of worlds in a haze, seeing nothing and hearing nothing.

We suffer most when the White House busts with ideas.

Happiness is the china shop; love is the bull.

So few men are really worth knowing, that it seems a shameful waste to let an anthropoid prejudice stand in the way of free association with one who is.

The Catholic clergy seldom bother to make their arguments plausible; it is plain that they have little respect for human intelligence, and indeed little belief in its existence.

A bad artist almost always tries to conceal his incompetence by whooping up a new formula.

It is almost impossible for an Anglo-Saxon to write of sex without being dirty.