Vice Is Its Own Reward. It Is

Love Is The Extra Effort We Make In Our Dealings With Those Whom We Do Not Like And Once You Understand That, You Understand All. This Idea That Love Overtakes You Is Nonsense. This Is But A Polite Manifestation Of Sex. To Love Another You Have To Undertake Some Fragment Of Their Destiny.

Though Intelligence Is Powerless To Modify Character, It Is A Dab Hand At Finding Euphemisms For Its Weaknesses.

Decency Must Be An Even More Exhausting State To Maintain Than Its Opposite. Those Who Succeed Seem To Need A Stupefying Amount Of Sleep.

Even Hooligans Marry, Though They Know That Marriage Is For A Little While. It Is Alimony That Is For Ever.

An Autobiography Is An Obituary In Serial Form With The Last Installment Missing.