Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave.

How like to us is that filthy beast the ape.

Imitate the ass in his love to his master.

The fox knows lots of tricks, the hedgehog only one—but it’s a winner.

Men, my dear, are very queer animals—a mixture of horse nervousness, ass stubbornness, and camel malice.

Cows are among the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young when deprived of them—and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures.

Man is a troublesome animal and therefore is not very manageable.

Animals are good to think with.

Animals are such agreeable friends—they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms.

Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It’s what separates us from the animals—except the weasel.

Life is no way to treat an animal.

Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve and from which he cannot escape.

I do not mean to call an elephant a vulgar animal, but if you think about him carefully, you will find that his nonvulgarity consists in such gentleness as is possible to elephantine nature—not in his insensitive hide, nor in his clumsy foot, but in the way he will lift his foot if a child lies in his way; and in his sensitive trunk, and still more sensitive mind, and capability of pique on points of honor.