I am one of those that always get accidentally guillotined when the Great Day of Liberation comes, because ... I guess ... I am full of parentheses. Revolutions can't abide parentheses.

The only way I can possibly heat my so-called mind up to working temperature is to imagine I'm talking to someone I admire.

Man is an animal whose dreams come true and kill him.

All I can say is that laughter is my music; I would deeply suspect an argument which hadn't laughter.

I cannot teach -- if I teach as teaching should be I become so exhausted I nearly die, I seem to have no middle gear.

You know, exams are like war -- the birth rate of ideas goes up. Anything to keep from this dismal regimen, says poor mind, and hopefully tosses up another distraction.

Did you ever look into the personalities of male cooks, Army, logging camp, etc.? They're all supposed to be crazy, incomprehensible, contemptible. And angry. The act of feeding adult males seems to have strange personality effects.