Our names are labels, plainly printed on the bottled essence of our past behavior.

We should nourish our souls on the dew of Poesy, and manure them as well.

The indefatigable pursuit of an unattainable perfection -even though nothing more than the pounding of an old piano -is what alone gives a meaning to our life on this unavailing star.

Whiskey has killed more men than bullets, but most men would rather be full of whiskey than bullets.

Solvency is entirely a matter of temperament and not of income.

If we shake hands with icy fingers, it is because we have burnt them so horribly before.

How it infuriates a bigot, when he is forced to drag out his dark convictions!