“There are worse things than a lie… I have found… that it may be well to choose one sin in order that another may be shunned.”

They who do not understand that a man may be brought to hope that which of all things is the most grievous to him, have not observed with sufficient closeness the perversity of the human mind.

One can only pour out of a jug that which is in it.

One wants in a Prime Minister a good many things, but not very great things. He should be clever but need not be a genius; he should be conscientious but by no means strait-laced.

There is no human bliss equal to twelve hours of work with only six hours in which to do it.

The secrets of the world are very marvellous, but they are not themselves half so wonderful as the way in which they become known to the world.

I hate a stupid man who can’t talk to me, and I hate a clever man who talks me down. I don’t like a man who is too lazy to make any effort to shine; but I particularly dislike the man who is always striving for effect.

Cham is the only thing to screw one up when one is down a peg.

Rights and rules, which are bonds of iron to a little man, are packthread to a giant.

People seen by the mind are exactly different to things seen by the eye. They grow smaller and smaller as you come nearer down to them, whereas things become bigger.

There is nothing perhaps so generally consoling to a man as a well-established grievance.

Let no man boast himself that he has got through the perils of winter till at least the seventh of May.

We cannot bring ourselves to believe it possible that a foreigner should in any respect be wiser than ourselves.

Never think that you’re not good enough yourself. A man should never think that.

Wine is valued for its price, not its flavor.

Nobody holds a good opinion of a man who has a low opinion of himself.

There is such a difference between life and theory.

Ritual is another word for fear, manifested in a different way.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

And I discover that we rarely if ever see the totality of another in ordinary social intercourse.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

There are the alpha waves in the brain; another clock is the heart. And all the while tick the mysterious, ruthless clocks that regulate aging.

Most creativity is a transition from one context into another where things are more surprising.

The success of SYNC is another proof point that we are doing just that.

My second novel, “Good Benito”, was not finished. I wished that I had spent another year with it.