We love old travelers: we love to hear them prate, drivel and lie; we love them for their asinine vanity, their ability to bore, their luxuriant fertility of imagination, their startling, brilliant, overwhelming mendacity.

If the world comes to an end, I want to be in Cincinnati. Everything comes there ten years later.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

In statesmanship get formalities right, never mind about the moralities.

Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we'd all have frozen to death!

Prohibition only drives drunkenness behind doors and into dark places, and does not cure it or even diminish it.

It makes one hope and believe that a day will come when, in the eye of the law, literary property will be as sacred as whiskey, or any other of the necessaries of life. It grieves me to think how far more profound and reverent a respect the law would have for literature if a body could only get drunk on it.