Read from a distant star, the majuscule script of our earthly existence would perhaps lead to the conclusion that the earth was the distinctively ascetic planet, a nook of disgruntled, arrogant creatures filled with a profound disgust with themselves, at the earth, at all life, who inflict as much pain on themselves as they possibly can out of pleasure in inflicting pain which is probably their only pleasure.

We must laugh at man to avoid crying for him.

I tell you Wellington is a bad general, the English are bad soldiers; we will settle this matter by lunch time.

The demand to be loved is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions.

No amount of evidence will ever persuade an idiot

This is the epitaph I want on my tomb: Here lies one of the most intelligent animals who ever appeared on the face of the earth.