When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.

Experience, the only logic sure to convince a diseased imagination and restore it to rugged health.

Truth is neither alive nor dead; it just aggravates itself all the time.

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

What do we call love, hate, charity, revenge, humanity, forgiveness? Different results of the master impulse, the necessity of securing one's self-approval.

Adam was the luckiest man in the world. He had no mother-in-law.

Can it be possible that the painters make John the Baptist a Spaniard in Madrid and an Irishman in Dublin?