I hate facts. I always say the chief end of man is to form general propositions - adding that no general proposition is worth a damn.

Love prefers twilight to daylight.

Our brains are seventy-year clocks. The Angel of Life winds them up once for all, then closes the case, and gives the key into the hand of the Angel of the Resurrection.

I hate facts. I always say the chief end of man is to form general propositions - adding that no general proposition is worth a damn.

Some people are so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good.

Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.

Civilization is the process of reducing the infinite to the finite.