An institute run with such knavish imbecility that if it were not the work of God it would not last a fortnight.

For every time she shouted "Fire!" They only answered "Little liar!" And therefore when her aunt returned, Matilda, and the house, were burned.

It is the best of all trades, to make songs, and the second best to sing them.

Before the curse of statistics fell upon mankind we lived a happy, innocent life, full of merriment and go and informed by fairly good judgment.

The whole art of the political speech is to put 'nothing' into it. It is much more difficult than it sounds.

The grace of God is courtesy.

When friendship disappears then there is a space left open to that awful loneliness of the outside world which is like the cold space between the planets. It is an air in which men perish utterly.