Christopher Morley
Christopher Morley
...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth5 May 1890
CountryUnited States of America
love friendship people
If we discovered that we only had five minutes left to say all that we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they loved them.
running book science
Printer's ink has been running a race against gunpowder these many, many years. Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries.
birthday children kids
We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up.
god heaven mind
I had a million questions to ask God: but when I met Him, they all fled my mind; and it didn't seem to matter.
girl dance men
Dancing is a wonderful training for girls, it's the first way you learn to guess what a man is going to do before he does it.
funny crazy silly
A human being: an ingenious assembly of portable plumbing.
courage art doors
The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness.
inspirational life motivational
Big shots are only little shots who keep shooting.
laughter humor two
Humor is perhaps a sense of intellectual perspective: an awareness that some things are really important, others not; and that the two kinds are most oddly jumbled in everyday affairs.
beauty lonely pain
Beauty is ever to the lonely mind a shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind the gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.
inspirational education book
When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life.
beauty faith inspiration
In every man's heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty.
funny life witty
A man who has never made a woman angry is a failure in life.
sleep average doubt
The human mind appears suddenly and inexplicably out of some unknown and unimaginable void. It passes half its known life in the mental chaos of sleep. Even when awake it is a victim of its own ill-adjustment, of disease, of age, of external suggestion, of nature's compulsions; it doubts its own sensations and trusts only in instruments and averages.