Mark Twain

“Thousands of geniuses live and die undiscovered - either by themselves or by others.”

“High and fine literature is wine, and mine is only water; but everybody likes water.”

“I am only human, although I regret it.”

“A man's character may be learned from the adjectives which he habitually uses in conversation.”

“The Bible has noble poetry in it... and some good morals and a wealth of obscenity, and upwards of a thousand lies.”

“Prophesy is a good line of business, but it is full of risks.”

“The more things are forbidden, the more popular they become.”

“A half-truth is the most cowardly of lies.”

“I've lived through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.”

“Many a small thing has been made large by the right kind of advertising.”

“Soap and education are not as sudden as a massacre, but they are more deadly in the long run.”

“The more you explain it, the more I don't understand it.”

“Obscurity and a competence—that is the life that is best worth living.”

“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

“You cannot surprise an individual more than twice with the same marvel”

“In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.”

“In 'Huckleberry Finn,' I have drawn Tom Blankenship exactly as he was. He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had.”

“A big leather-bound volume makes an ideal razorstrap. A thing book is useful to stick under a table with a broken caster to steady it. A large, flat atlas can be used to cover a window with a broken pane. And a thick, old-fashioned heavy book with a clasp is the finest thing in the world to throw at a noisy cat.”

“Herodotus says, "Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will correct these defects.”

“I lost Susy thirteen years ago; I lost her mother--her incomparable mother!--five and a half years ago; Clara has gone away to live in Europe and now I have lost Jean. How poor I am, who was once so rich! . . . Jean lies yonder, I sit here; we are strangers under our own roof; we kissed hands good-by at this door last night--and it was forever, we never suspecting it. She lies there, and I sit here--writing, busying myself, to keep my heart from breaking. How dazzling the sunshine is flooding the hills around! It is like a mockery. Seventy-four years ago twenty-four days. Seventy-four years old yesterday. Who can estimate my age today?”