A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.
What's the use of a great city having temptations if fellows don't yield to them?
I'm not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare who says that it's always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping.
I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.
I am not always good and noble. I am the hero of this story, but I have my off moments.
I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't know what I did before that. Just loafed, I suppose.
The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.
You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.
It is a good rule in life never to apologize. The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them.
What ho!" I said. "What ho!" said Motty. "What ho! What ho!" "What ho! What ho! What ho!" After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.