Gross ignorance is 144 times worse than ordinary ignorance.

Do I believe in ghosts? Of course I do. So do you. Deep in the souls of the most sophisticated of us is lurking a fear of the supernatural which all the discoveries of scientists cannot eradicate.

Fame – anyone who says he doesn’t like it is crazy.

I think it’s become fashionable for the snobbish egghead today to make fun of television. I’ve heard many people, boast, “I would never have a television set in my house,” well, these people are fools.

One of the greatest threats facing book publishing, and the entire country for that matter, is censorship.

Oratory is the art of making a loud noise sound like a deep thought.

The Detroit String Quartet played Brahms last night. Brahms lost.

There once was a student named Bessor Whose knowledge grew lessor and lessor. It at last grew so small He knew nothing at all, And today he’s a college professor!

For me, a hearty ‘belly laugh‘ is one of the beautiful sounds in the world.

TV‘s sameness has destroyed many things, such as the American urge toward independent thought.

Football season: The only time of the year when a man can walk down the street with a blond on one arm and a blanket on the other without encountering raised eyebrows.

The Atomic Age is here to stay – but are we?

Middle age is when your old classmates are so grey and wrinkled and bald they don’t recognize you.

I think the right to read, is one of our inherent rights, and I think that people in America today are intelligent enough to decide for themselves what they want to read. Without being told, by self-appointed people, you must not read this, or you cannot read this.

In a notable family called Stein
There were Gertrude, and Ep, and then Ein.
Gert’s writing was hazy,
Ep’s statues were crazy,
And nobody understood Ein.

I don’t stutter when I talk to God. He loves me.

They tell about a fifteen-year-old boy in an orphans‘ home who had an incurable stutter. One Sunday the minister was detained and the boy volunteered to say the prayer in his stead. He did it perfectly, too, without a single stutter. Later he explained, “I don’t stutter when I talk to God. He loves me.”

I can’t say this too often – that a little humor can make life worth living. That has always been my credo. Somebody once asked me, ‘What would you like your epitaph to be?’ I’ve always said that I’d like it to be: He left people a little happier than they were when he came into the room.

One of the troubles of the day, observes Mr. C.N. Peac, is that once we came upon the little red schoolhouse, whereas now we come upon the little-read school boy.