I cannot call to mind a single instance where I have ever been irreverent, except toward the things which were sacred to other people.

The joy of killing! the joy of seeing killing done - these are traits of the human race at large.

It used to take me all vacation to grow a new hide in place of the one they flogged off me during school term.

Familiarity breeds contempt - and children.

I will remark in the way of general information, that in California, that land of felicitous nomenclature, the literary name of this sort of stuff is "hogwash"

in order to make a man or boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain.

There is nothing like instances to grow hair on a bald-headed argument.