There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure.

Homely truth is unpalatable.

You aim for the palace and get drowned in the sewer.

The reason why truth is so much stranger than fiction is that there is no requirement for it to be consistent.

When politics enter into municipal government, nothing resulting therefrom in the way of crimes and infamies is then incredible. It actually enables one to accept and believe the impossible.

'Don't you worry, and don't you hurry.' I know that phrase by heart, and if all other music should perish out of the world it would still sing to me.

Wherein lies a poet's claim to originality? That he invents his incidents? No. That he was present when his episodes had their birth? No. That he was first to repeat them? No. None of these things has any value. He confers on them their only originality that has any value, and that is his way of telling them.