I speak French with timidity, and not flowingly--except when excited. When using that language I have often noticed that I have hardly ever been mistaken for a Frenchman, except, perhaps, by horses; never, I believe, by people.

You take the lies out of him, and he'll shrink to the size of your hat; you take the malice out of him, and he'll disappear.

The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be?--it is the same the angels breathe.

whenever the literary german dives into a sentence, this is the last you are going to see of him till he emerges on the other side of his atlantic with his verb in his mouth.

....try the mustard, - a man can't know what turnips are in perfection without mustard.

The happy phrasing of a compliment is one of the rarest of human gifts, and the happy delivery of it another.

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.