Nothing seems too high or low for the humorist; he is above honor, above faith, preserving sense in religion and sanity in life.

The drama's altar isn't on the stage: it is candle-sticked and flowered in the box office. There is the gold, though there be no frankincense or myrrh; and the gospel for the day always The Play will Run for a Year. The Dove of Inspiration, of the desire for inspiration, has flown away from it; and on it's roof, now, the commonplace crow caws candidly.

Laughter is wine for the soul - laughter soft, or loud and deep, tinged through with seriousness - the hilarious declaration made by man that life is worth living.

Here, with whitened hair, desires failing, strength ebbing out of him, with the sun gone down and with only the serenity and the calm warning of the evening star left to him, he drank to Life, to all it had been, to what it was, to what it would be. Hurrah!

There's nothing so passionate as a vested interest disguised as an intellectual conviction.

When it was dark, you always carried the sun in your hand for me.

All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.