I haven't a particle of confidence in a man who has no redeeming petty vices whatsoever.
Intellectual ''work'' is misnamed; it is a pleasure, a dissipation, and is its own highest reward.
France has neither winter, nor summer, nor morals. France is miserable because it is filled with Frenchmen, and Frenchmen are miserable because they live in France.
I've lived through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.
The truth hurts, but silence kills.
Often it does seem a pity that Noah and his party did not miss the boat.