Nature knows no indecencies; man invents them.
Man seems to be a rickety poor sort of thing, any way you take him; a kind of British Museum of infirmities and inferiorities. He is always undergoing repairs. A machine that was as unreliable as he is would have no market.
The public is the only critic whose judgment is worth anything at all.
You can tell German wine from vinegar by the label.
...ignorant as the unborne babe! ignorant as unborn twins!
When an honest writer discovers an imposition it is his simple duty to strip it bare and hurl it down from its place of honor, no matter who suffers by it; any other course would render him unworthy of the public confidence.