The laughter of man is more terrible than his tears, and takes more forms -hollow, heartless, mirthless, maniacal.

Love is what you've been through with somebody.

Two is company, four is a party, three is a crowd. One is a wanderer.

So much has already been written about everything that you can't find out anything about it.

You might as well fall flat on your face as lean over too far backward.

But those rare souls whose spirit gets magically into the hearts of men, leave behind them something more real and warmly personal than bodily presence, an ineffable and eternal thing. It is everlasting life touching us as something more than a vague, recondite concept. The sound of a great name dies like an echo; the splendor of fame fades into nothing; but the grace of a fine spirit pervades the places through which it has passed, like the haunting loveliness of mignonette.

The only rules comedy can tolerate are those of taste, and the only limitations those of libel.