People will kill you. Over time. They will shave out every last morsel of fun in you with little, harmless sounding phrases that people uses every day, like: 'Be realistic!'" [What It Is (2009)]
I have a beard of fog that I wear on misty mornings. It’s not cigarette smoke, but I’d understand if you wanted to shave it off and inhale it.
We can’t be lovers because we both have mustaches. But since you’re a lady, and I’m a gentleman, I’ll shave mine off.
Thinking in its lower grades, is comparable to paper money, and in its higher forms it is a kind of poetry.
The sun, the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago, had they happened to be within reach of predatory human hands.
The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw.
The more rapidly a civilization progresses, the sooner it dies for another to rise in its place.
The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a Wilderness.
The place where optimism flourishes the most is the lunatic asylum.
What we call progress is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.