Happiness is a small and unworthy goal for something as big and fancy as a whole lifetime, and should be taken in small doses.

A group of politicians deciding to dump a President because his morals are bad is like the Mafia getting together to bump off the Godfather for not going to church on Sunday.

Life is always walking up to us and saying, "Come on in, the living's fine," and what do we do? Back off and take its picture.

A $10 million windfall? At today's prices, I'd feel almost as rich as I did one day in 1936 when I found a dime on the sidewalk and blew the whole wad on 20 Mary Jane candy bars, a box of jujubes, and a double feature.

I've had an unhappy life, thank God.

Of all the people expressing their mental vacuity, none has a better excuse for an empty head than the newspaperman: If he pauses to restock his brain, he invites onrushing deadlines to trample him flat. Broadcasting the contents of empty minds is what most of us do most of the time, and nobody more relentlessly than I.

Misery no longer loves company. Nowadays it insists on it.