Goodness, that Simon Cowell is a sensitive soul.
The true motives of our actions, like the real pipes of an organ, are usually concealed; but the gilded and hollow pretext is pompously placed in the front for show.
True friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom known until it is lost.
Money is the most envied, but the least enjoyed. Health is the most enjoyed, but the least envied.
Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past, even while we attempt to define it.
Wealth after all is a relative thing since he that has little and wants less is richer than he that has much and wants more.
He that is good will infallibly become better, and he that is bad will as certainly become worse; for vice, virtue, and time are three things that never stand still.
It is the business of economists, not to tell us what to do, but show why what we are doing anyway is in accord with proper principles.
I can't keep from fooling around with our irrefutable certainties. It is, for example, a pleasure knowingly to mix up two and three dimensionalities, flat and spatial, and to make fun of gravity.
The measure of an enthusiasm must be taken between interesting events. It is between bites that the lukewarm angler loses heart.
I feel satisfaction at the end of the day when I've written a scene that I really like or when I write a good line of dialogue that I read out to my wife or something like that. But there's also days where it's just bloody agony and I go, 'ugh, this is such crap! Why did I think I had any talent?