Humorists of the 'mere' sort cannot survive. Humor is only a fragrance, a decoration.

Once you've put one of his [Henry James] books down, you simply can't pick it up again.

Foreigners cannot enjoy our food, I suppose, any more than we can enjoy theirs. It is not strange; for tastes are made, not born. I might glorify my bill of fare until I was tired; but after all, the Scotchman would shake his head and say, 'Where's your haggis?' and the Fijan would sigh and say, 'Where's your missionary?'

Of the demonstrably wise there are but two: those who commit suicide, & those who keep their reasoning faculties atrophied with drink.

Well, no doubt it's a blessed thing to have an imagination that can always make you satisfied, no matter how you are fixed.

The work that is really a man's own work is play and not work at all.

Stripping away the irrational, the illogical, and the impossible, I am left with atheism. I can live with that.