Truth's sacred fort th' exploded laugh shall win, And coxcombs vanquish Berkeley with a grin.

Now let us thank th' eternal power, convinc'd That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction: That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour, Serves but to brighten our future days!

'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write, As fopplings grin to show their teeth are white.

Blessed is he who has learned to laugh at himself, for he shall never cease to be entertained

If I can get you to laugh with me, you like me better, which makes you more open to my ideas. And if I can persuade you to laugh at the particular point I make, by laughing at it you acknowledge its truth.

Laughter's the nearest we ever get, or should get, to sainthood. It's the state of grace that saves most of us from contempt.