We can all be replaced, and we all are.
You stir up a lot of sunken knowledge when you reorganize your library.
It is a sort of blessing, if you have no talent, to have no taste.
Once you see human interaction as a contest to signal mating fitness, you never see it as anything else.
A pseudo-science colonizes other disciplines; a real one sticks to its last.
Elision is the mother of decision.
As sympathy broadens, it also shallows.
A grudging willingness to admit error does not suffice; you have to cultivate a taste for it.
The great American creeps are Poe and Whitman, and the great American bores are Emerson and Hemingway.
First you do not write what you think, then you do not say what you think, and finally you do not think what you think.