Acquaintance: "A person whom we know well enough to borrow from, but not well enough to lend to. A degree of friendship called slight when its object is poor or obscure, and intimate when he is rich or famous.
Ambrose BierceImmortality: A toy which people cry for, And on their knees apply for, Dispute, contend and lie for, And if allowed Would be right proud Eternally to die for.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: eternity immortality
It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble.
Ambrose Bierceoptimism, n. The doctrine, or belief, that everything is beautiful, including what is ugly, everything good, especially the bad, and everything right that is wrong. It is held with greatest tenacity by those most accustomed to the mischance of falling into adversity, and is most acceptably expounded with disproof - an intellectual disorder, yielding to no treatment but death. It is hereditary, but fortunately not contagious.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: fools
love, n. A temporary insanity curable by marriage of by removal of the patient from the influences under which he/she incurred the disorder. This disease, like Caries and many other ailments, is prevalent only among civilized races living under artificial conditions; barbarous nations breathing pure air and eating simple food enjoy immunity from its ravages. It is sometimes fatal, but more frequently to the physician than the patient.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: love
acquaintance, n.: A person whom we know well enough to borrow from, but not well enough to lend to.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: friendship
Marriage, n.: The state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress and two slaves, making in all, two.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: marriage
diplomacy, n.: The patriotic art of lying for one's country.
Ambrose BierceStichwörter: politics
Philanthropist. A rich (and usually bald) old gentleman who has trained himself to grin while his conscience is picking his pocket...
Ambrose BierceGood-bye — if you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags please know that I think that a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico — ah, that is euthanasia.
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