Sixty two thousand four hundred repetitions make one truth. Idiots!

Real progress is progress in charity, all other advances being secondary thereto.

The author of the Iliad is either Homer or, if not Homer, somebody else of the same name.

In the world of ideas everything was clear; in life all was obscure, embroiled.

For at least two thirds of our miseries spring from human stupidity, human malice and those great motivators and justifiers of malice and stupidity, idealism, dogmatism and proselytizing zeal on behalf of religious or political idols

Procrustes in modern dress, the nuclear scientist will prepare the bed on which mankind must lie; and if mankind doesn’t fit—well, that will be just too bad for mankind. There will have to be some stretching and a bit of amputation—the same sort of stretching and amputations as have been going on ever since applied science really got going into its stride, only this time they will be a good deal more drastic than in the past. These far from painless operations will be directed by highly centralized totalitarian governments.

Both of us victims of the same twentieth-century plague. Not the Black Death, this time; the Gray Life.