* * * * * A man that'd expict to thrain lobsters to fly in a year is called a loonytic; but a man that thinks men can be tur-rned into angels be an iliction is called a rayformer an' remains at large. * * * * * Th' throuble with most iv us, Hinnissy, is we swallow pollytical idees befure they're ripe an' they don't agree with us. * * * * * Dhressmakers' bills sinds women into lithrachoor an' men into an early decline. * * * * * A bur-rd undher a bonnet is worth two on th' crown. * * * * * People tell me to be frank, but how can I be whin I don't dare to know mesilf? * * * * * People that talk loud an' offind ye with their insolence are usu'lly shy men thryin' to get over their shyness. 'Tis th' quite, resarved, ca'm spoken man that's mashed on himsilf. * * * * * If men cud on'y enjye th' wealth an' position th' newspapers give thim whin they're undher arrest! Don't anny but prominent clubman iver elope or embezzle? * * * * * Miditation is a gift con-fined to unknown philosophers an' cows. Others don't begin to think till they begin to talk or write. * * * * * A good manny people r-read th' ol' sayin' “Larceny is th' sincerest form iv flatthry.” * * * * * Tis a good thing th' fun'ral sermons ar-re not composed in th' confissional. * * * * * Most vigitaryans I iver see looked enough like their food to be classed as cannybals. * * * * * I don't see why anny man who believes in medicine wud shy at th' faith cure. * * * * * Miracles are laughed at be a nation that r-reads thirty millyon newspapers a day an' supports Wall sthreet. * * * * * All men are br-rave in comp'ny an' cow'rds alone, but some shows it clearer thin others. * * * * * I'd like to tell me frind Tiddy that they'se a strenuse life an' a sthrenuseless life. * * * * * I'd like to've been ar-round in th' times th' historical novelists writes about--but I wudden't like to be in th' life insurance business. * * * * * I wondher why porthrait painters look down on phrenologists. * * * * * Di-plomacy is a continyual game iv duck on th' rock--with France th' duck. * * * * * Whin we think we're makin' a gr-reat hit with th' wurruld we don't know what our own wives thinks iv us. End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Dooley's Philosophy, by Finley Peter Dunne