Complete masculinity and stupidity are often indistinguishable.

After all, the world is not our handiwork, and we are not responsible for what goes on in it, save within very narrow limits.

No romantic novel ever written in America, by man or woman, is one half so beautiful as My Ántonia.

No man ever quite believes in any other man. One may believe in an idea absolutely, but not in a man. In the highest confidence there is always a flavor of doubt--a feeling, half instinctive and half logical, that, after all, the scoundrel may have something up his sleeve.

The function of a newspaper in a democracy is to stand as a sort of chronic opposition to the reigning quacks. The minute it begins to out-whoop them it forfeits its character and becomes ridiculous.

The common man knows exactly what he wants...and deserves to get it good and hard.

Happiness is peace after strife, the overcoming of difficulties, the feeling of security and well-being. The only really happy folk are married women and single men.