When man gives up on reforming and inspiring society he also gives up his freedom.
Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.
Though statisticians in our time have never kept the score, Man wants a great deal here below and Woman even more.
Love is blind, but desire just doesn't give a good goddamn
The Old Man ain’t afraid of hell
Muggs was always sorry, Mother said, when he bit someone, but we could never understand how she figured this out. He didn't act sorry.
Some American writers who have known each other for years have never met in the daytime or when both were sober.
If you are a police dog, where's your badge?
This is the posture of fortunes slave: one foot in the gravy, one foot in the grave.
One has but to observe a community of beavers at work in a stream to understand the loss in his sagacity, balance, co-operation, competence, and purpose which Man has suffered since he rose up on his hind legs. He began to chatter and he developed Reason, Thought, and Imagination, qualities which would get the smartest group of rabbits or orioles in the world into inextricable trouble overnight.
He had as much fun in the water as any person I have known. You didn't have to throw a stick in the water to get him to go in. Of course, he would bring back a stick to you if you did throw one in. He would even have brought back a piano if you had thrown one in.
Hundreds of hysterical persons must confuse these phenomena with messages from the beyond and take their glory to the bishop rather than the eye doctor.
No male can beat a female in the long run because they have it over us in sheer, damn longevity.
I don't remember any blue poodles.
I'm 65 and I guess that puts me in with the geriatrics. But if there were fifteen months in every year, I'd only be 48. That's the trouble with us. We number everything. Take women, for example. I think they deserve to have more than twelve years between the ages of 28 and 40.
Authors of light pieces have, nobody knows why, a genius for getting into minor difficulties: they walk into the wrong apartments, they drink furniture polish for stomach bitters, they drive their cars into the prize tulip beds of haughty neighbors, they playfully slap gangsters, mistaking them for old school friends.
The appreciative smile, the chuckle, the soundless mirth, so important to the success of comedy, cannot be understood unless one sits among the audience and feels the warmth created by the quality of laughter that the audience takes home with it.
Last night I dreamed of a small consolation enjoyed only by the blind: Nobody knows the trouble I've not seen!
The sanity of the average banquet speaker lasts about two and a half months; at the end of that time he begins to mutter to himself, and calls out in his sleep.
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