There's nothing a man can stand so much of as praise.

We have to wear clothes, a requirement of custom, but more time, temper, character, and peace of mind, not to mention money, have been sacrificed to them than to any other altar on this green earth, and for what?

What puppets we humans are - what puppets! Born without permission, dying when it is neither pleasant nor convenient, we are made to march or crawl through life on the edge of a precipice from which at any moment we may be knocked over. And we're told we should believe the experience is a privilege!

It isn't bad judgment to make a man believe he is something. He is by nature inclined to it, and a little encouragement is good for most people.

Death is dreadfully personal, terribly important to oneself, and so unimportant to the rest of the world.

In a man they forgive anything. In a woman nothing.

Nothing shows the kind of fool you are as quick as your tongue.