It's nice to see that look of alarm on the faces of the others.

You know, there are many people in the country today who, through no fault of their own, are sane. Some of them were born sane. Some of them became sane later in their lives.

When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled.

We come from nothing, we are going back to nothing-In the end what have we lost? Nothing!

This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot.

Death can really absorb a person. Lik most people, I would find it pleasant not to have to go, but you just accept that it's more or less inevitable.

All ideas come about through some sort of observation. It sparks an attitude; some object or emotion causes a reaction in the other person.