Man has imagined a heaven, and has left entirely out of it the supremest of all his delights...sexual intercourse!...His heaven is like himself: strange, interesting, astonishing, grotesque. I give you my word, it has not a single feature in it that he actually values.

The Public is merely a multiplied 'me.'

Comparison is the death of joy.

There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.

Politicians, old buildings, and prostitutes become respectable with age.

When someone dies, it is like when your house burns down; it isn't for years that you realize the full extent of your loss.

The Moral Sense teaches us what is right, and how to avoid it-when unpopular.