The wretcheder one is, the more one smokes; and the more one smokes, the wretcheder one gets-a vicious circle.

Lovely female shapes are terrible complicators of the difficulties and dangers of this earthly life, especially for their owners.

Sick I am of idle words, past all reconciling, Words that weary and perplex and pander and conceal, Wake the sounds that cannot lie, for all their sweet beguiling; The language one need fathom not, but only hear and feel.

Life ain’t all beer and skittles, and more’s the pity; but what’s the odds, so long as you’re happy?

An apple is an excellent thing – until you have tried a peach.

Happiness is like time and space-we make and measure it ourselves; it is as fancy, as big, as little, as you please, just a thing of contrasts and comparisons.

The best years of a man’s life are after he is forty. A man at forty has ceased to hunt the moon.

A little work, a little play, To keep us going – and so, good-day!

the wretcheder one is, the more one smokes; and the more one smokes, the wretcheder one gets—a vicious circle.

Language is a poor thing. You fill your lungs with wind and shake a little slit in your throat, and make mouths, and that shakes the air; and the air shakes a pair of little drums in my head—a very complicated arrangement, with lots of bones behind—and my brain seizes your meaning in the rough. What a roundabout way, and what a waste of time.