Everything Ultimately Fails, For We Die, And

One Cat In A House Is A Sign Of Loneliness.

The Newspaper Has Debauched The American Until He Is A Slavish, Simpering, And Angerless Citizen; It Has Taught Him To Be A Lump Mass-man Toward Fraud, Simony, Murder, And Lunacies More Vile Than Those Of Commodus Or Caracalla.

Though Man Is The Only Beast That Can Write, He Has Small Reason To Be Proud Of It. When He Utters Something That Is Wise It Is Nothing That The River Horse Does Not Know, And Most Of His Creations Are The Result Of Accident.

A Painter Can Hang His Pictures, But A Writer Can Only Hang Himself.

I Have No Confidence In A Man Whose Faults You Cannot See.