Absolutes are absolutely dangerous.

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.

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

Evil is the voltage of good; the urge to goodness, without the potential of evil, is trivial.

Passing in any crowd are secret people whose hidden response to beauty is the desire to tear it into bleeding meat.

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

And here is our girl, looking-- If possible, worse than before. (You thought this was Cinderella transistorized?)