Clergyman: A ticket speculator outside the gates of Heaven.

Our literature, despite several false starts that promised much, is chiefly remarkable, now as always, for its respectable mediocrity.

Men become civilized, not in proportion to their willingness to believe, but in their readiness to doubt.

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

Two simple principles lie at the bottom of the whole matter, and they may be precipitated into two rules. The first is that, when there is a choice, the milder drink is always the better-not merely the safer but the better. The second is that no really enlightened drinker ever takes a drink at a time when he has any work to do. There is, of course, more to it than this; but these are sufficient for the beginner, and even the virtuoso never outgrows them.

There is no idea so stupid that you can't find a professor who will believe it.

Whenever "A" attempts by law to impose his moral standards upon "B," "A" is most likely a scoundrel.