Some persons seem to like you, and others seem to hate you, and you must wonder why. They are simply liking machines and hating machines.

Sometimes I wonder about the Creator of the Universe.

The painting was framed in a misty view of sky, sea, and valley. Newt's painting was small, black, and warty. It consisted of scratches made in a black, gummy impasto. The scratches formed a sort of spider's web, and I wondered if they might not be the sticky nets of human futility hung up on a moonless night to dry.

In 1844, Karl Marx said, "Religion is the opiate of the masses." He said this at a time when opium and opium derivatives were the only painkillers. And he said it helped a little. He might as well have said, "Religion is the aspirin of the people."

It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.

The New York Daily News suggested that my biggest war crime was not killing myself like a gentleman. Presumably Hitler was a gentleman.

I thought scientists were going to find out exactly how everything worked, and then make it work better.