There's always another story. There's more than meets the eye.

As a rule, it was the pleasure-haters who became unjust.

Nobody knows what the cause is, though some pretend they do; it like some hidden assassin waiting to strike at you. Childless women get it, and men when they retire; it as if there had to be some outlet for their foiled creative fire.

Left to itself the masculine imagination has very little appreciation for the here and now; it prefers to dwell on what is absent, on what has been or may be. If men are more punctual than women, it is because they know that, without the external discipline of clock time, they would never get anything done.

Thank God for books as an alternative to conversation.

Dance, dance, dance till you drop.

In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.