The man that has anything bountifully laughable about him, be sure there is more in that man than you perhaps think for.

Ladies are like creeds; if you cannot speak well of them, say nothing.

Toil is man's allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that's more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.

I would prefer not to.

Is he mad? Anyway there's something on his mind, as sure as there must be something on a deck when it cracks.

The grand points in human nature are the same to-day they were a thousand years ago. The only variability in them is in expression, not in feature.

We die of too much life.