E-I-E-I-O is actually a gross misspelling of the word farm.

There are battered husbands. Apparently this happens when the woman is real big, the man is very small, and they each drink a quart of whiskey a day.

Medical researchers have discovered a new disease that has no symptoms. It is impossible to detect, and there is no known cure. Fortunately, no cases have been reported thus far.

As far as I'm concerned, humans have not yet come up with a belief that's worth believing.

Honesty may be the best policy, but it's important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy.

It was just a compulsion. In fact, I soon realized that the only thing I really enjoyed was the actual snorting.

The larger the group, the more toxic, the more of your beauty as an individual you have to surrender for the sake of group thought. And when you suspend your individual beauty you also give up a lot of your humanity. You will do things in the name of a group that you would never do on your own. Injuring, hurting, killing, drinking are all part of it, because you've lost your identity, because you now owe your allegiance to this thing that's bigger than you are and that controls you.