We often look with indifference on the successive parts of something that, if the whole were seen together, would shake us with emotion.

Cucumber should be well sliced, dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out.

The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.

Curiosity is one of the most permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect.

Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not.

When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.

Classical quotation is the parole of literary men all over the world.

A man who uses a great many words to express his meaning is like a bad marksman who, instead of aiming a single stone at an object, takes up a handful and throws at it in hopes he may hit.

There are minds so impatient of inferiority that their gratitude is a species of revenge, and they return benefits, not because recompense is a pleasure, but because obligation is a pain.

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.

He who has so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing anything but his own disposition will waste his life in fruitless efforts.

For some, excavating the past isn’t an adventure, it’s more akin to tearing a Band-Aid off an open wound.

... people don't know what they are striving for. They waste themselves in senseless thrashing around for the sake of a handful of goods and die without realizing their spiritual wealth.

When you live in an alcoholic family or an abusive family, you tiptoe, you don't want to step on any mines.

The value of tolerance is central to living in today's world - especially in diverse places like the Bronx.

Show me a mall, and I'm happy.

Maybe you could casually mention to Zoe that I'm not now, nor have I ever been, an axe murderer." "I'll see if I can work it into our next conversation," Flynn promised.

He that writes to himself writes to an eternal public.

Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.

The rich invest in time, the poor invest in money.

Poetry and music I have banished, But the stupidity Of root, shoot, blossom or clay Makes no demand. I bend my body to the spade Or grope with a dirty hand.