I am not a cat man, but a dog man, and all felines can tell this at a glance - a sharp, vindictive glance.

No male can beat a female in the long run because they have it over us in sheer, damn longevity.

Things have dropped from me. I have outlived certain desires; I have lost friends, some by death... others through sheer inability to cross the street.

If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.

I'm 65 and I guess that puts me in with the geriatrics. But if there were fifteen months in every year, I'd only be 48. That's the trouble with us. We number everything. Take women, for example. I think they deserve to have more than twelve years between the ages of 28 and 40.

The sanity of the average banquet speaker lasts about two and a half months; at the end of that time he begins to mutter to himself, and calls out in his sleep.

A pinch of probability is worth a pound of perhaps.