No man in his heart is quite so cynical as a well-bred woman.

Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs.

There are few things so pleasant as a picnic eaten in perfect comfort.

Cronshaw stopped for a moment to drink. He had pondered for twenty years the problem whether he loved liquor because it made him talk or whether he loved conversation because it made him thirsty.

Common-sense appears to be only another name for the thoughtlessness of the unthinking. It is made of the prejudices of childhood, the idiosyncrasies of individual character and the opinion of the newspapers.

It's always difficult to make conversation with a drunk, and there's no denying it, the sober are at a disadvantage with him.

By the time a man notices that he is no longer young, his youth has long since left him.