George Bernard Shaw

There is no love sincerer than the love of food.

In literature the ambition of the novice is to acquire the literary language: the struggle of the adept is to get rid of it.

There is nothing so bad or so good that you will not find an Englishman doing it; but you will never find an Englishman in the wrong. He does everything on principle. He fights you on patriotic principles; he robs you on business principles; he enslaves you on imperial principles.

If all the economists were laid end to end, they’d never reach a conclusion.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

Science becomes dangerous only when it imagines that it has reached its goal.

Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.

Necessity does everything well.

The value of a principle is the number of things it will explain.

The measure of a master is his success in bringing all men around to his opinion twenty years later.

In his private heart no man much respects himself.

Gross and obscure natures, however decorated, seem impure shambles; but character gives splendor to youth, and awe to wrinkled skin and gray hairs.

It is in these acts called trivialities that the seeds of joy are forever wasted, until men and women look round with haggard faces at the devastation their own waste has made, and say, the earth bears no harvest of sweetness – calling their denial knowledge.

Nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body, and it addeth no small reverence to men’s manners and actions if they be not altogether open. Therefore set it down: That a habit of secrecy is both politic and moral.

Be slow to fall into friendship; but when thou art in, continue firm and constant.

The remedy is worse than the disease.

That strong mother doesn’t tell her cub ‘Son, stay weak so the wolves can get you’. She says, ‘Toughen up, this is reality we are living in’.

There is still vitality under the winter snow, even though to the casual eye it seems to be dead.

The power of daring anything their fancy suggest, as always been conceded to the painter and the poet.

Principles aren’t of much account anyway, except at election time. After that you hang them up to let them season.

Why should I be unhappy? Every parcel of my being is in full bloom.