There may be deep thought, but deep people don’t exist. Our bodies must float on the surface, otherwise we drown.

Those who do not preach life but live it do not smile to the lily near the bank; they look for stones and hang on.

Most parents are so convinced of their little darling’s innocence that, by proxy, in rallying for junior’s purity they come to believe in their own innocence—as if duplicating oneself will make a right!

Cockroach: What is war?
Man: How we lost the human race.

The hermit is he who needs a friend, and in the absence of a community has befriended himself.

When a scientist splits an atom, the event is locked away like a jewel in a castle, funneling down to the public through a myriad of institutions. But when an artist stumbles upon the key to unleashing universal evil, the forbidden fruit of his painstaking labor is packaged and sold at every corner store from Bangor to Bangkok. I’m still unsure whether this is the result of a lack of respect for artists (compared to scientists) or the moral corruption of artists (compared to scientists).