Miserliness is the one vice that grows stronger with increasing years. It yields its sordid pleasures to the end.
It is bad enough to be bad, but to be bad in bad taste is unpardonable.
People fed on sugared praises cannot be expected to feel an appetite for the black broth of honest criticism.
The cat dwells within the circle of her own secret thoughts.
Friendship takes time.
A vast deal of ingenuity is wasted every year in evoking the undesirable, in the careful construction of objects which burden life. Frankenstein was a large rather than an isolated example.
Discussion without asperity, sympathy with fusion, gayety unracked by too abundant jests, mental ease in approaching one another; these are the things which give a pleasant smoothness to the rough edge of life.
We cannot hope to scale great moral heights by ignoring petty obligations.
Sensuality, too, which used to show itself course, smiling, unmasked, and unmistakable, is now serious, analytic, and so burdened with a sense of its responsibilities that it passes muster half the time as a new type of asceticism.
A man who listens because he has nothing to say can hardly be a source of inspiration. The only listening that counts is that of the talker who alternately absorbs and expresses ideas.
An historian without political passions is as rare as a wasp without a sting.
The well-ordered mind knows the value, no less than the charm, of reticence. The fruit of the tree of knowledge ... falls ripe from its stem; but those who have eaten with sobriety find no need to discuss the processes of digestion.
Edged tools are dangerous things to handle, and not infrequently do much hurt.
Wit is a thing capable of proof.
The carefully fostered theory that schoolwork can be made easy and enjoyable breaks down as soon as anything, however trivial, has to be learned.
Letters form a by-path of literature, a charming, but occasional, retreat for people of cultivated leisure.
The clear-sighted do not rule the world, but they sustain and console it.
Democracy forever teases us with the contrast between its ideals and its realities, between its heroic possibilities and its sorry achievements.
The tourist may complain of other tourists; but he would be lost without them. He may find them in his way, taking up the best seats in the motors, and the best tables in the hotel dining-rooms; but he grows amazingly intimate with them during the voyage, and not infrequently marries one of them when it is over.
Art... does not take kindly to facts, is helpless to grapple with theories, and is killed outright by a sermon.
Where there is no temptation, there is no virtue.
It is in his pleasure that a man really lives.
A dead grief is easier to bear than a live trouble.
The least practical of us have some petty thrift dear to our hearts, some one direction in which we love to scrimp.
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