I remember a time when a cabbage could sell itself by being a cabbage. Nowadays it’s no good being a cabbage – unless you have an agent and pay him a commission. Nothing is free anymore to sell itself or give itself away. These days, Countess, every cabbage has its pimp.

Oh God, if you want women to never again raise their voices, then create an adult man!

Each day the worst of our faults, our deficiencies, our crimes, the truth of our lives, is stifled under a triple layer of forgetfulness, death and the ordinary course of justice.

When he (man) ceased any longer to heed the words of the seers and prophets, science lovingly brought forth the radio.

A man has only one way of being immortal on earth: he has to forget he is a mortal.

Who would prefer peace to the glory of hunger and thirst, of wading through mud, and dying in the service of one's country?

Half the human race can change its name and sometimes its nation without suffering — at least half! All women!