I believe that people believe what they believe they believe.

A husband is a man who two minutes after his head touches the pillow is snoring like an overloaded omnibus.

I don't mind their having a lot of money, and I don't care how they employ it, but I do think that they damn well ought to admit they enjoy it.

Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons, or Celts, Can't seem just to say anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else.

I do not like to get the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

All husbands are alike, but they have different faces so you can tell them apart.

If you are really Master of your Fate, it shouldn't make any difference to you whether Cleopatra or the Bearded Lady is your mate.