Anyone who can only think of one way to spell a word obviously lacks imagination.

By trying we can easily learn to endure adversity. Another man's, I mean.

He has been a doctor a year now and has had two patients - no, three, I think - yes, it was three; I attended their funerals.

The piano may do for love-sick girls who lace themselves to skeletons, and lunch on chalk, pickles and slate pencils, but give me the banjo.

Happiness ain't a thing in itself - it's only a contrast with something that ain't pleasant.

By his father he is English, by his mother he is Americanto my mind the blend which makes the perfect man.

Whatever thing men call great, look for it in Joan of Arc, and there you will find it.