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The public of this country is so youthful, not to say simple-minded, that it cannot understand the meaning of a fable unless the moral is set forth at the end. Unable to see a joke, insensible to irony, it has, in a word, been badly brought up. It has not yet learned that in a decent book, as in decent society, open invective can have no place; that our present-day civilisation has invented a keener weapon, none the less deadly for being almost invisible, which, under the cloak of flattery, strikes with sure and irresistible effect.

In simple hearts the feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is a hundred-fold stronger and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers of narratives in words and on paper.

I was reading an interview with Keith Richards in a magazine and in the interview Keith Richards intimated that kids should not do drugs. Keith Richards! Says that kids should not do drugs! Keith, we can't do any more drugs because you already fucking did them all, alright? There's none left! We have to wait 'til you die and smoke your ashes! Jesus Christ! Talk about the pot and the fuckin' kettle.

Improve constantly and forever the system of production and service, to improve quality and productivity, and thus constantly decrease costs.

I'm gonna get one of those tracheotomies, so I can smoke two cigarettes at the same time! I'm gonna get nine tracheotomies, all around my neck, I'll be Tracheotomy Man! He can smoke a pack at a time, he's Tracheotomy Man!

God.. crack. Only in America would a guy invent crack. Only in America would there be a guy that cocaine wasn't good enough for. You know? One guy walking around New York City back in 1985 going, "You know, that cocaine's pretty good, but I want something that makes my heart explode as soon as I smoke it, ok? I want to take one suck off that crack pipe and go *snort* *splat* Now I'm happy! I'm dead, the ultimate high!"

Defects are not free. Somebody makes them, and gets paid for making them.

That certain women were ready to sell themselves caused no excessive disgust in Isabelle. It was inevitable that a number of both men and women should compromise the institution of marriage by marrying for money, and once that happened there could be no question of impressing on the toughly logical female mind the unique vileness of prostitution. She had sometimes wondered, too, whether the contempt men felt for women who market their favors did not in part proceed from the sense of grievance eternally felt by buyers against vendors.

Happiness comes in small doses folks. It's a cigarette, or a chocolate chip cookie or a five second orgasm, that's it okay? You cum, you eat the cookie, you smoke the butt, you go to sleep you get up in the morning and go to fucking work okay? That is it, end of fucking list!

Not eating meat is a decision, eating meat is an instinct.

But just as it sometimes happens that the most temperate people, who have never acquired the habit of drinking alcohol, or even a taste for it, are tormented by the fear that somehow or other they will one day find themselves drunk, so Isabelle perpetually feared that she might be betrayed into an impulsive act that was destructive to such order as reason had imposed on life. Therefore she was forever running her faculty of analysis over in her mind with the preposterous zeal of an adolescent running a razor over his beardless chin.

We didn't have rehab back in the Seventies. Back in the Seventies, rehab meant you stopped doing coke, but you kept smoking pot and drinking for a couple more weeks.