We all know what Parliament is, and we are all ashamed of it.

Although I may express myself with some degree of pleasantry the purport of my words is entirely serious.

This profusion of eccentricities, this dream in masonry and living rock is not a drop scene in a theatre, but a city in the world of reality.

No man is useless while he has a friend.

If a man loves the labour of his trade, apart from any question of success or fame, the gods have called him.

A man met a lad weeping. "What do you weep for?" he asked. "I am weeping for my sins," said the lad. "You must have little to do," said the man. The next day, they met again. Once more the lad was weeping. "Why do you weep now?" asked the man. "I am weeping because I have nothing to eat," said the lad. "I thought it would come to that," said the man.

There is no progress whatever. Everything is just the same as it was thousands, and tens of thousands, of years ago. The outward form changes. The essence does not change.