What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that, too. And even if wars didn’t keep coming like glaciers, there would still be plain old death.
If a person survives an ordinary span of sixty years or more, there is every chance that his or her life as a shapely story has ended and all that remains to be experienced is epilogue. Life is not over, but the story is.
Ideas on earth were badges of friendship or enimity. Their content did not matter. Friends agreed with friends, in order to express friendliness. Enemies disagreed with enemies, in order to express enimity.
Symbols can be so beautiful, sometimes.
Some automatic device clicked in her big brain, and her knees felt weak, and there was a chilly feeling in her stomach. She was in love with this man. They don’t make memories like that anymore.
What a fool I would have been to let self-respect interfere with my happiness!
The mountebank told them that God was surely trying to kill them, possibly because He was through with them, and that they should have the good manners to die. This, as you can see, they did.
All these years, I’ve been opening the window and making love to the world.
Evolution is so creative. That’s how we got giraffes.
Cigarettes are a classy way to commit suiside.
There is no order in the world around us, we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead.
One might be led to suspect that there were all sorts of things going on in the Universe which he or she did not thoroughly understand.
People would be surprised if they knew how much in this world was due to prayers.
I’ve been living alone for so long, everything about me’s private. I’m surprised anyone’s able to understand a word I say.
Let there be nothing harmonious about our children’s playthings, lest they grow up expecting peace and order, and be eaten alive.
All people are insane. They will do anything at any time, and God help anybody who looks for reasons.
The youngest child in any family is always a jokemaker, because a joke is the only way he can enter into an adult conversation.
Some persons seem to like you, and others seem to hate you, and you must wonder why. They are simply liking machines and hating machines.
It pains me even now, even a million years later, to write about such human misbehaviour. A million years later, I feel like apologizing for the human race. That’s all I can say.
Farewell, hello, farewell, hello.