Why must love always be accompanied--sooner or later--by sorrow and pain? Why not? Because pure bliss is for pure idiots.
I despise my own nation most. Because I know it best. Because I still love it, suffering from Hope. For me, that's patrotism.
We are kindred all of us, killer and victim, predator and prey, me and the sly coyote, the soaring buzzard, the elegant gopher snake, and trembling cottontail, the foul worms that feed on our entrails; all of them, all of us. Long live diversity, long live the earth!
Humility is a virtue when you have no other.
A giant thirst is a great joy when quenched in time.
I do not believe in personal immortality; it seems so unnecessary. Show me one man who deserves to live forever.
A genius is always on duty; even his dreams are tax deductible.
You can't belay a man who's falling in love.
We live in a society in which it is normal to be sick; and sick to be abnormal.
Who needs astrology? The wise man gets by on fortune cookies.
Are people more important than the grizzly bear? Only from the point of view of some people.
My own ambition, my deepest and truest ambition, is to find within myself someday, somehow, the ability to do likewise, to do NOTHING - and find it enough.
If it's knowledge and wisdom you want, then seek out the company of those who do real work for an honest purpose.
Grown men do not need leaders.
Jane Austen: Getting into her books is like getting in bed with a cadaver. Something vital is lacking; namely, life.
The rebel is doomed to a violent death. The rest of us can look forward to sedated expiration in a coma inside an oxygen tent, with tubes inserted in every bodily orifice.
There are circumstances in which suicide presents a viable option; a workable alternative; the only sensible solution.
I'm in favor of animal liberation. Why? Because I'm an animal.
I know my own nation best. That's why I despise it the most. And know and love my own people, too, the swine. I'm a patriot. A dangerous man.
Simplicity is always a virtue.
There has never been a day in my life when I was not in love.
In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat, in the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolution, all things recede to distrances out of reach, relecting light but impossible to touch, annihilating all thought and all that men have made to a spasm of whirling dust far out on the golden desert.
If we had the power of ten Shakespeares or a dozen Mozarts, we could not produce anything half so marvelous as one ordinary human child.
One single act of defiance against power, against the State that seems omnipotent but is not, transforms and transfigures the human personality. At least for a time. For a while. Perhaps that is enough.
The nuclear bomb took all the fun out of war.
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