Animals are born who they are, accept it, and that is that. They live with greater peace than people do.

I know you don't want to hear this but someone has to say it! You are out of control! I mean they're just shoes... let it go!

She dropped her shyness like a nightgown, and in the liquid glare of sunlight on old boards she held up her hands-as if, in the terror of the upcoming skirmish, she had at last understood that she was beautiful. In her own way.

All our lives are activity without meaning; we burrow ratlike into life and we squirm ratlike through it and ratlike we are flung into our graves at the end. Now and then, why shouldn't we hear a voice of prophecy.

[Puggles] "What population signs on willingly for slavery?" "You mean other than wives?" [Glinda]

Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence.

The more civilized we become, the more horrendous our entertainments.