Quotes About Wit

Do not worry about your problems with mathematics, I assure you mine are far greater

My dad was great. He was very droll, very dry.

But I have no sense of humor and not enough courage to be cynical.

That's not funny or cute!

Silence is as full of potential wisdom and wit as the unshown marble of great sculpture. The silent bear no witness against themselves.

Silence is as full of potential wisdom and wit as the unhewn marble of a great sculpture.

Oh, oh!' said Renzo, 'you are a poet!' To comprehend this witticism of poor Renzo, it is necessary to be informed, that in the eyes of the vulgar of Milan, and more particularly in its environs, the name of poet did not signify, as among cultivated people, a sublime genius, an inhabitant of Pindus, a pupil of the muses, but a whimsicality and eccentricity in discourse and conduct, which had more of singularity than sense; and an absurd wresting of words from their legitimate signification.

Disappointment sharpens the wit; and Renzo, who, in the straightforward path he had hitherto travelled, had not been required to subtilise much, now conceived a plan which would have done honour to a lawyer.

There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.

A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed, / What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;An honest man's the noblest work of God.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come:Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys.

Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.

There still remains, to mortify a wit,The many-headed monster of the pit.

Such labored nothings, in so strange a style,Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.

In wit a man, simplicity a child.

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd; Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind. As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.

Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?

True wit is nature to advantage dressed; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings, This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings; Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys, Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys

One science only will one genius fit/ So vast is art, so narrow human wit

A perfect Judge will read each work of Wit With the same spirit that its author writ; Survey the WHOLE, nor seek slight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind; .... In wit, as nature, what effects our hearts Is not th'exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.