Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
Life is a crowded superhighway with bewildering cloverleaf exits on which a man is liable to find himself speeding back in the direction he came.
When I can no longer bear to think of the victims of broken homes, I begin to think of the victims of intact ones.
We know the human brain is a device to keep the ears from grating on one another.
Look at it this way: Psychoanalysis is a permanent fad.
We are nothing but a string of gut on a stick of bone riding this piece of astral soot for one piteous splinter of eternity.
Marriage has driven more than one man to sex.
We pay for security with boredom, for adventure with bother.
The satirist shoots to kill while the humorist brings his prey back alive and eventually releases him again for another chance.
Time heals nothing — which should make us the better able to minister.
Pain is the question mark turned like a fishhook in the human heart.
This human nature is shabby stuff, as you may know from introspection.
Celibacy is the worst form of self-abuse.
I think people love each other a little more than they hate each other ... Love has a slim hold on the human corporation, like fifty-one per cent, but it's enough.
"You don't believe in God," I said to Stein. "God is a word banging around in the human nervous system. He exists about as much as Santa Claus." "Santa Claus has had a tremendous influence, exist or not." "For children." "Lots of saints have died for God with a courage that's hardly childish." "That's part of the horror. It's all a fantasy. It's all for nothing."
Sex in marriage is like medicine. Three times a day for the first week. Then once a day for another week. Then once every three or four days till the condition clears up.
I wondered whether any woman could be happy with a man who says 'folderol'.
The trouble with treating people as equals is that the first thing you know they may be doing the same thing to you.
He resented such questions as people do who have thought a great deal about them. The superficial and slipshod have ready answers, but those looking this complex life straight in the eye acquire a wealth of perception so composed of delicately balanced contradictions that they dread, or resent, the call to couch any part of it in a bland generalization. The vanity (if not outrage) of trying to cage this dance of atoms in a single definition may give the weariness of age with the cry of youth for answers the appearance of boredom.
I was thinking that we all learn by experience, but some of us have to go to summer school.
Murals in restaurants are on a par with the food in museums.
I am not impressed by the Ivy League establishments. Of course they graduate the best -- it's all they'll take, leaving to others the problem of educating the country. They will give you an education the way the banks will give you money -- provided you can prove to their satisfaction that you don't need it.
Do you believe in astrology? -I don't even believe in astronomy.
Love's blindness consists oftener in seeing what is not there than in seeing what is.
My father hated radio and could not wait for television to be invented so he could hate that too.
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