You can read Kant by yourself, if you wanted to; but you must share a joke with someone else.
In the law of God, there is no statute of limitations.
No human being ever spoke of scenery for above two minutes at a time, which makes me suspect that we hear too much of it in literature.
The little rift between the sexes is astonishingly widened by simply teaching one set of catchwords to the girls and another to the boys.
Live life to the fullest.
I have done my fiddling so long under Vesuvius that I have almost forgotten to play, and can only wait for the eruption and think it long of coming. Literally no man has more wholly outlived life than I. And still it’s good fun.
A generous prayer is never presented in vain; the petition may be refused, but the petitioner is always, I believe, rewarded by some gracious visitation.
And my heart springs up anew, Bright and confident and true, And the old love comes to meet me, in the dawning and the dew.
Children are certainly too good to be true.
The world has no room for cowards.
Lastly no woman should marry a teetotaller, or a man who does not smoke. It is not for nothing that this “ignoble tobagie” as Michelet calls it, spreads all over the world.
Each has his own tree of ancestors, but at the top of all sits Probably Arboreal.
Everything is true; only the opposite is true too; you must believe both equally or be damned.
One more touch of the bow, smell of the virginal Green – one more, and my bosom Feels new life with an ecstasy.
Bright is the ring of words When the right man rings them, Fair the fall of songs When the singer sings them. Still they are carolled and said – On wings they are carried – After the singer is dead And the maker buried.
There is but one art, to omit! Oh, if I knew how to omit I would ask no other knowledge. A man who knows how to omit would make an Iliad of a daily paper.
When we look in to the long avenue of the future, and see the good there is for each one of us to do, we realize, after all, what a beautiful thing it is to work, and to live, and to be happy.
Fiction is to grown men what play is to the child.
I regard you with an indifference closely bordering on aversion.
And the true realism, always and everywhere, is that of the poets: to find out where joy resides, and give it a voice far beyond singing. For to miss the joy is to miss all.