It is impossible to translate the poets. Can you translate music?

I live by good soup, and not on fine language.

The only authors whom I acknowledge as American are the journalists. They indeed are not great writers, but they speak the language of their countrymen, and make themselves heard by them. 

Man is the one name belonging to every nation upon earth: there is one soul and many tongues, one spirit and various sounds; every country has its own speech, but the subjects of speech are common to all.

I rather think the cinema will die. Look at the energy being exerted to revive it—yesterday it was color, today three dimensions. I don’t give it forty years more. Witness the decline of conversation. Only the Irish have remained incomparable conversationalists, maybe because technical progress has passed them by.

Speak and speed; the close mouth catches no flies.

Methinks the human method of expression by sound of tongue is very elementary and ought to be substituted for some ingenious invention which should be able to give vent to at least six coherent sentences at once.

The newspaper is the natural enemy of the book, as the whore is of the decent woman.

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.

A good newspaper, I suppose, is a nation talking to itself.

Writing cannot express words fully; words cannot express thoughts fully.

Unexemplary words and unfounded doctrines are avoided by the noble person. Why utter them?

Every man has a right to utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down for it. Martyrdom is the test.