The cat of the slums and alleys, starved, outcast, harried, still keeps amid the prowlings of its adversity the bold, free, panther-tread with which it paced of yore the temple courts of Thebes, still displays the self-reliant watchfulness which man has never taught it to lay aside.

He's simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.

I hate babies. They're so human.

I always say beauty is only sin deep.

Children are given us to discourage our better emotions.

It is one of the consolations of middle aged reformers that the good that they inculcate must live after them if it is to live at all.

Every reformation must have its victims. You can’t expect the fatted calf to share the enthusiasm of the angels over the prodigal’s return.