There is an old song which asserts 'the best things in life are free.' Not true! Utterly false! This was the tragic fallacy which brought on the decadence and collapse of the democracies of the twentieth century; those noble experiments failed because the people had been led to believe that they could simply vote for whatever they wanted...and get it without toil, without sweat, without tears. Nothing of value is free. Even the breath of life is purchased at birth only through gasping effort and pain.

...a book need never die and should not be killed; books were the immortal part of man.

One of the sanest, surest, and most generous joys of life comes from being happy over the good fortune of others.

Don't explain computers to laymen. Simpler to explain sex to a virgin.

Consider the black widow spider. It's a timid little beastie, useful and, for my taste, the prettiest of the arachnids, with its shiny, patent-leather finish and its red hourglass trademark. But the poor thing has the fatal misfortune of possessing enormously too much power for its size. So everybody kills it on sight.

It's a man's business to be what he is, and to be it in style.

The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.