We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

For the only way one can speak of nothing is to speak of it as though it were something, just as the only way one can speak of God is to speak of him as though he were a man, which to be sure he was, in a sense, for a time, and as the only way one can speak of man, even our anthropologists have realized that, is to speak of him as though he were a termite.

What are we doing here, that is the question.

Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.

It was the only way to progress, to stop.

The Tuesday scowls, the Wednesday growls, the Thursday curses, the Friday howls, the Saturday snores, the Sunday yawns, the Monday morns, the Monday morns. The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps, and the yelps.

The only thing you must never speak of is your happiness.