Josh Billings - The Complete Works of Josh Billings

Thare iz another laff whitch I hav annalized; it cums out ov the mouth with a noize like a pig makes when he iz in a tite spot, one sharp squeal and two snikkers, and then dies in a simper.

This kind ov a laff iz larnt at femail boarding-skools, and dont mean ennything; it iz nothing more than the skin ov a laff.

Genuine laffing iz the vent ov the soul, the nostrils ov the heart, and iz jist az necessary for helth and happiness as spring water iz for a trout.

Thare iz one kind ov a laff that i always did reckommend; it looks out ov the eye fust with a merry twinkle, then it kreeps down on its hands and kneze and plays around the mouth like a pretty moth around the blaze ov a kandle, then it steals over into the dimples ov the cheeks and rides around in thoze little whirlpools for a while, then it lites up the whole face like the mello bloom on a damask roze, then it swims oph on the air, with a peal az klear and az happy az a dinner-bell, then it goes bak agin on golden tiptoze like an angel out for an airing, and laze down on its little bed ov violets in the heart whare it cum from.

Thare iz another laff that noboddy kan withstand; it iz just az honest and noizy az a distrikt skool let out tew play, it shakes a man up from hiz toze tew hiz temples, it dubbles and twists him like a whiskee phit, it lifts him up oph from hiz cheer, like feathers, and lets him bak agin like melted led, it goes all thru him like a pikpocket, and finally leaves him az weak and az krazy az tho he had bin soaking all day in a Rushing bath and forgot tew be took out.

This kind ov a laff belongs tew jolly good phellows who are az helthy az quakers, and who are az eazy tew pleaze az a gall who iz going tew be married to-morrow.

In konclushion i say laff every good chance yu kan git, but don’t laff unless yu feal like it, for there ain’t nothing in this world more harty than a good honest laff, nor nothing more hollow than a hartless one.

When yu do laff open yure mouth wide enuff for the noize tew git out without squealing, thro yure hed bak az tho yu waz going tew be shaved, hold on tew yure false hair with both hands and then laff till yure soul gets thoroly rested.

But i shall tell yu more about theze things at sum fewter time.

There is nothing that haz bin diskovered yet, that iz so skarse as good Hoss sense, about 28 hoss power.

I don’t mean race hoss, nor trotting hoss sense, that kan run a mile in 1:28 and then brake down; nor trot in 2:13, and good for nothing afterwards, only to brag on; but I mean the all-day hoss sense, that iz good for 8 miles an hour, from rooster crowing in the morning, until the cows cum home at night, klean tew the end ov the road.

I hav seen fast sense, that was like sum hoses, who could git so far in one day that it would take them two days tew git back, on a litter. I don’t mean this kind nuther.

Good hard-pan sense iz the thing that will wash well, wear well, iron out without wrinkling, and take starch without kracking.

Menny people are hunting after uncommon sense, but they never find it a good deal; uncommon sense iz ov the nature of genius, and all genius iz the gift of God, and kant be had, like hens eggs, for the hunting.

Good, old-fashioned common sense iz one ov the hardest things in the world to out-wit, out-argy, or beat in enny way, it iz az honest az a loaf ov good domestik bread, alwus in tune, either hot from the oven or 8 days old.

Common sense kan be improved upon by edukashun – genius kan be too, sum, but not much.

Edukashun gauls genius like a bad setting harness.

Common sense iz like biled vittles, it is good right from the pot, and it is good nex day warmed up.

If every man waz a genius, mankind would be az bad oph az the heavens would be, with every star a comet, things would git hurt badly, and noboddy tew blame.

Common sense iz instinkt, and instinkt don’t make enny blunders mutch, no more than a rat duz, in coming out, or going intew a hole, he hits the hole the fust time, and just fills it.

Genius iz always in advance ov the times, and makes sum magnificent hits, but the world owes most ov its tributes to good hoss sense.

Silence is a still noise.

One ov the hardest things for a man to do, iz tew keep still.

Everyboddy wants tew be heard fust, and this iz jist what fills the world with nonsense.

Everyboddy wants tew talk, few want to think, and noboddy wants tew listen.

The greatest talkers amung the feathered folks, are the magpie and ginny hen, and neither ov them are ov mutch account.

If a man ain’t sure he iz right the best kard he kan play iz a blank one.

I have known menny a man tew beat in an argument by just nodding his hed once in a while and simply say, “ jess so, jess so .”

It takes a grate menny blows tew drive in a nail, but one will clinch it.

Sum men talk just az a French pony trots, all day long, in a haff bushel meazzure.

Silence never makes enny blunders, and alwus gits az mutch credit az iz due it, and oftimes more.

When i see a man listening to me cluss i alwus say to mi self, “ look out, Josh , that fellow iz taking your meazzure.”

I hav herd men argy a pint two hours and a haff and not git enny further from whare they started than a mule in a bark mill, they did a good deal ov going round and round.

I hav sot on jurys and had a lawyer talk the law, fakts and evidence ov the kase all out ov me, besides starting the taps on mi boots.

I hav bin tew church hungry for sum gospel, and cum hum so phull ov it that i couldn’t draw a long breth without starting a button.

Brevity and silence are the two grate kards, and next to saying nothing, saying a little, iz the strength ov the game.

One thing iz certain, it iz only the grate thinkers who kan afford tew be brief, and thare haz bin but phew volumes yet published which could not be cut down two-thirds, and menny ov them could be cut klean back tew the title page without hurting them.

Iz hard tew find a man ov good sense who kan look back upon enny occason and wish he had sed sum more, but it iz eazy tew find menny who wish they had said less.

A thing sed iz hard tew recall, but unsed it kan be spoken any time.

Brevity iz the child of silence, and iz a great credit tew the old man.

True bravery iz very eazy tew detekt, for it iz az mutch a part and parcel of a man’s every day life az hiz clothes iz.

Everything that a truly brave man duz iz did from principle not impulse, and when no one sees him he iz just az heroik az he would be if he waz in the eyes of the multitude.

Thare iz a grate deal ov bravery that iz simply ornamental, and if it wan’t for its spurs and cockade wouldn’t amount tew mutch.

It iz not bravery to face what we kan’t dodge, but it iz true courage tew face all things that are honest and dodge nothing.

True bravery exists amung the lowly just az mutch az amung the grate, and a man really haz no more right tew expekt praise for his courage than he haz for hiz virtue.

It often requires more bravery tew tell the simple truth than it duz tew win a battle.

He who fills to the brim the stashun in life, which nature or fortune haz given him, iz a hero; i don’t kare whether he iz a peasant on the hillside, or chieftian in the tented field.

The most sublime courage I hav ever witnessed, hav been among that klass who waz too poor to know that they possessed it, and too humble for the world ever to diskover it.

When I want to see a hero, or commune with one, i don’t go tew the pages ov history; i kan find them in among the bipaths ov every day life, i hav known them tew liv out their lives and die without enny reckord here; but hereafter, when the grate sorting takes place, they will be found among the jewels.