It is surely no mere coincidence that the land of the emancipated and enthroned woman is also the land of canned soup, of canned pork and beans, of whole meals in cans, and of everything else ready made.

God is the immemorial refuge of the incompetent, the helpless, the miserable. They find not only sanctuary in His arms, but also a kind of superiority, soothing to their macerated egos; He will set them above their betters.

It takes a long while for a naturally trustful person to reconcile himself to the idea that after all God will not help him.

The chief business of the nation, as a nation, is the setting up of heroes, mainly bogus.

A home is not a mere transient shelter: its essence lies in its permanence, in its capacity for accretion and solidification, in its quality of representing, in all its details, the personalities of the people who live in it.

A large part of altruism, even when it is perfectly honest, is grounded upon the fact that it is uncomfortable to have unhappy people about one.

High-toned humanitarians constantly overestimate the sufferings of those they sympathize with.

An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

It is not materialism that is the chief curse of the world, as pastors teach, but idealism. Men get into trouble by taking their visions and hallucinations too seriously.

One horse-laugh is worth ten thousand syllogisms. It is not only more effective; it is also vastly more intelligent.