The most lively thought is still inferior to the dullest sensation.
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By the time I was done with the car it looked worse than any typical Indian car that had been driven all its life on reservation roads, which they always say are like government promises—full of holes.
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I tell you his mind bled almost visibly.
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Why should so much poetry be written about sexual love and so little about eating—which is just as pleasurable and never lets you down—or about family affection, or about the love of mathematics.
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In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.
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Well, then, says I, what’s the use you learning to do right, when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?
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Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.
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“Keep your pores open.”
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“But, by what I have gathered from your own Relation, and the Answers I have with much pain wringed from you; I cannot but conclude the Bulk of your Natives, to be the most pernicious Race of little odious Vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl upon the Surface of the Earth.”
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“There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.”
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It is only when our appointed activities seem by a lucky accident to obey the particular earnestness of our temperament that we can taste the comfort of complete self-deception.
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“If you could look deep enough into anyone’s character, even perhaps your own, you would find a sense of machismo.”
Compiled by Richard W. Bray
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