Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face. It cannot be concealed. People talk sometimes of secret vices, there are no such things. If a wretched man has a vice, it shows itself in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the moulding of his hands even.

Philanthropy [has become] simply the refuge of people who wish to annoy their fellow creatures.

They have been eating muffins. That looks like repentance

I walk the world in wonder.

Whenever cannibals are on the brink of starvation, Heaven, in its infinite mercy, sends them a fat missionary.

It is only the unimaginative who ever invents. The true artist is known by the use he makes of what he annexes.

Everybody in American seems in a rush to catch a train.