Every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods.

A bad man is the sort who weeps every time he speaks of a good woman.

A prohibitionist is the sort of man one couldn't care to drink with, even if he drank.

Each party steals so many articles of faith from the other, and the candidates spend so much time making each other's speeches, that by the time election day is past there is nothing much to do save turn the sitting rascals out and let a new gang in.

Every man sees in his relatives, and especially in his cousins, a series of grotesque caricatures of himself.

For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.