Telling lies is a fault in a boy, an art in a lover, an accomplishment in a bachelor, and second-nature in a married man.

Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common sense.

Kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray.

A man seldom thinks of marrying when he meets his ideal woman; he waits until he gets the marrying fever and then idealizes the first woman he happens to meet.

At twenty, a man feels awfully aged and blasé; at thirty, almost senile; at forty, "not so old"; and at fifty, positively skittish.

Jealousy is the tie that binds, and binds, and binds.

Marriage is the operation by which a woman's vanity and a man's egotism are extracted without an anaesthetic.