I saw a huge steam roller, It blotted out the sun. The people all lay down, lay down; They did not try to run. My love and I, we looked amazed Upon the gory mystery. "Lie down, lie down!" the people cried. "The great machine is history!" My love and I, we ran away, The engine did not find us. We ran up to a mountain top, Left history far behind us. Perhaps we should have stayed and died, But somehow we don't think so. We went to see where history'd been, And my, the dead did stink so.

In this world, you get what you pay for.

I could go on to speak of sanity as compared with insanity, decency as compared with vandalism, friendship as compared with rabies.

My ancestors were Freethinkers - and that's what I am, except we're called secular humanists now.

In the era of big brains, life stories could end up any which way. Look at mine.

You are being suffocated by tradition... Why don't you say, 'I am going to build a life for myself, for my time, and make it a work of art'? Your life isn't a work of art ---it's a thirdhand Victorian whatnot shelf, complete with someone else's collection of seashells and hand-carved elephants.

A sane person to an insane society must appear insane.