Madness, like small fish, runs in hosts, in vast numbers of instances.

In a nutshell-I fear authority but at the same time I resent it-the authority and my own fear. So I rebel.

Giving me a a new idea is like handing a cretin a gun, but I do thank you anyhow, bang bang.

I must admit that the existence of Disneyland (which I know is real) proves that we are not living in Judaea in 50 AD. . . . Saint Paul would never go near Disneyland. Only children, tourists, and visiting Soviet high officials ever go to Disneyland. Saints do not.

How undisturbed, the sleep of the foolish.

My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.

Dilemma of civilized man; body mobilized, but danger obscure.