I have little belief in human progress. The human race is incurably idiotic. It will never be happy.

It is more blessed to give than receive; for example, wedding presents.

The notion that artists flourish upon adversity and misunderstanding, that they are able to function to the utmost in an atmosphere of indifference or hostility - this notion is nine-tenths nonsense.

History deals mainly with captains and kings, gods and prophets, exploiters and despoilers, not with useful men.

If experience teaches us anything at all, it teaches us this: that a good politician, under democracy, is quite as unthinkable as an honest burglar.

The dying man doesn't struggle much and he isn't much afraid. As his alkalies give out he succumbs to a blest stupidity. His mindfogs. His will power vanishes. He submits decently. He scarcely gives a damn.

There are some people who read too much: The bibliobibuli.