History Does Not Repeat Itself. The Historians

There Is Laughter That Goes So Far As To Lose All Touch With Its Motive, And To Exist Only, Grossly, In Itself. This Is Laughter At Its Best. A Man To Whom Such Laughter Has Often Been Granted May Happen To Die In A Work-house. No Matter. I Will Not Admit That He Has Failed In Life. Another Man, Who Has Never Laughed Thus, May Be Buried In Westminster Abbey, Leaving More Than A Million Pounds Overhead. What Then? I Regard Him As A Failure.

We Must Stop Talking About The American Dream And Start Listening To The Dreams Of Americans.

Fate Weaves The Darkness, Which Is Perhaps Why She Weaves So Badly.

People Are Either Born Hosts Or Born Guests.

Of Course We All Know That Morris Was A Wonderful All-round Man, But The Act Of Walking Round Him Has Always Tired Me.