In real life there is no such person as the average man.

A poor degenerate from the ape, Whose hands are four, whose tail's a limb, I contemplate my flaccid shape And know I may not rival him Save with my mind.

The leech's kiss, the squid's embrace, The prurient ape's defiling touch: And do you like the human race? No, not much.

People will insist on treating the mons Veneris as though it were Mount Everest. Too silly!

Being cared for when one is dead is less satisfactory than being cared for when one is alive.

Thought of the incomprehensible sequence of changes and chances that make up a life, all the beauties and horrors and absurdities whose conjunctions create the uninterpretable and yet divinely significant pattern of human destiny.

One seventh of your life is spent on Monday.