. . . clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude.

I do not want to be admired. I want to give$$$ to be given$$$ and solitude in which to unfold my possessions.

Once she knows how to read there's only one thing you can teach her to believe in and that is herself.

For once the disease of reading has laid upon the system it weakens so that it falls an easy prey to that other scourge which dwells in the ink pot and festers in the quill. The wretch takes to writing.

I prefer men to cauliflowers.

Beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty: it came too readily$$$ came too completely. It stilled life$$$ froze it.

Providence looks after all the chumps of this world$$$ and personally$$$ I'm all for it.

Marriage is not a process for prolonging the life of love$$$ sir. It merely mummifies its corpse.

Man is born to live$$$ to suffer$$$ and to die$$$ and what befalls him is a tragic lot. There is no denying this in the final end. But we must deny it all along the way.

And she's got brains enough for two$$$ which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.