The choir always tittered and whispered all through the service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was.

There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream, a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought -a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!

All right, then, I'll go to hell.

There are many humorous things in the world; among them, the white man's notion that he is less savage than the other savages.

If everyone was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.

But we are all insane, anyway ... The suicides seem to be the only sane people.

A street in Constantinople is a picture which one ought to see once-not oftener.