The Privilege Of Feeling At

Virtue, My Pet, Is An Abstract Idea, Varying In Its Manifestations With The Surroundings. Virtue In Provence, In Constantinople, In London, And In Paris Bears Very Different Fruit, But Is None The Less Virtue.

Nature Makes Only Dumb Animals. We Owe The Fools To Society.

The Press Is Like A Woman: Sublime When It Lies, It Will Not Let Go Until It Has Forced You To Believe It. The Public, Like A Foolish Husband, Always Succumbs.

Like Evil, Sublimity Is Also Contagious.

One Of The Most Detestable Habits Of Lilliputian Minds Is To Find Their Own Littleness In Others.