Mark Twain

Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.

The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.

I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way.

It has been well said that tea is suggestive of a thousand wants, from which spring the decencies and luxuries of civilization.

There is nothing in the world that I loathe more than group activity, that communal bath where the hairy and slippery mix in a multiplication of mediocrity.

The future is limitless.