A little while with grief and laughter, And then the day will close; The shadows gather ... what comes after No man knows.

You want to know whether I believe in ghosts? Of course I do not believe in them. If you had known as many of them as I have, you would not believe in them either.

Pity the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

A little while with grief and laughter, And then the day will close; The shadows gather ... what comes after No man knows.

The chief obstacle to the progress of the human race is the human race.

Between the years of ninety-two and a hundred and two, however, we shall be the ribald, useless, drunken, outcast person we have always wished to be. We shall have a long white beard and long white hair; we shall not walk at all, but recline in a wheel chair and bellow for alcoholic beverages; in the winter we shall sit before the fire with our feet in a bucket of hot water, a decanter of corn whiskey near at hand, and write ribald songs against organized society... We look forward to a disreputable, vigorous, unhonoured, and disorderly old age.

Ideas pull the trigger, but instinct loads the gun.