Men mourn for what they have lost; women for what they ain't got.

Never teach your child to be cunning or you may be certain you will be one of the very first victims of his shrewdness.

Silence is a still noise.

Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, But four times he who gets his blow in fust

I don't care how much a man talks, if he only says it in a few words.

It is not all bad, this getting old, ripening. After the fruit has got its growth it should juice up and mellow. God forbid I should live long enough to ferment and rot and fall to the ground in a squash.

Poverty is the step-mother of genius.