Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.

Why the Egyptian, Arabic, Abyssinian, Choctaw? Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder goe when it dies?

I'm not trying to PREDICT the future. I'm just trying to PREVENT it.

Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much?

Work is the only answer. I have three rules to live by. One, get your work done. If that doesn't work, shut up and drink your gin. And when all else fails, run like hell!

Why would you clone people when you can go to bed with them and make a baby? C'mon, it's stupid.

Your mind's always juggling, isn't it?-mirrors, torches, plates.