But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.
Our masters have not heard the people’s voice for generations and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.
There’s a notion I’d like to see buried: the ordinary person. Ridiculous. There is no ordinary person.
We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.
Sexually progressive cultures gave us literature, philosophy, civilization and the rest, while sexually restrictive cultures gave us the Dark Ages and the Holocaust.
Your pretty empire took so long to build, now, with a snap of history’s fingers, down it goes.
There is no future. There is no past. Do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.
So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there’s always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.
The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin.
We’re all puppets, Laurie. I’m just a puppet who can see the strings.
There’s no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There’s only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof.
If I have to have a past, then I prefer it to be multiple choice.
Equality and freedom are not luxuries to lightly cast aside. Without them, order cannot long endure before approaching depths beyond imagining.
It is the oldest ironies that are still the most satisfying: man, when preparing for bloody war, will orate loudly and most eloquently in the name of peace.
Real life is messy, inconsistent, and it’s seldom when anything ever really gets resolved. It’s taken me a long time to realize that.
You know what I wish? I wish all the scum of the Earth had one throat and I had my hands about it.
Once you realize what a joke everything is, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense.
There are people. There are stories. The people think they shape the stories, but the reverse if often closer to the truth. Stories shape the world. They exist independently of people, and in places quite devoid of man, there may yet be mythologies.
In an era of stress and anxiety, when the present seems unstable and the future unlikely, the natural response is to retreat and withdraw from reality, taking recourse either in fantasies of the future or in modified visions of a half-imagines past.
Everybody has their story to tell.