It seldom pays to be rude. It never pays to be only half-rude.

How hard it is, sometimes, to trust the evidence of one's senses! How reluctantly the mind consents to reality.

The true cook is the perfect blend, the only perfect blend, of artist and philosopher. He knows his worth: he holds in his palm the happiness of mankind, the welfare of generations yet unborn.

Shall I give you my recipe for happiness? I find everything useful and nothing indispensable. I find everything wonderful and nothing miraculous. I reverence the body. I avoid first causes like the plague.

What is all wisdom save a collection of platitudes? But the man who orders his life according to their teachings cannot go far wrong.

The longer one lives, the more one realizes that nothing is a dish for every day.

It seldom pays to be rude. It never pays to be only half-rude.