I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.

I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.

We could have saved the Earth but we were too damned cheap.

In [The Mysterious Stranger, Mark Twain] proves to his own grim satisfaction, and to mine as well, that Satan and not God created the planet earth and “the damned human race.” If you doubt that, read your morning paper. Never mind what paper. Never mind what date.

The planet was being destroyed by manufacturing processes, and what was being manufactured was lousy, by and large.