Come Now, Don't Make Such

The Universe Appears To Me Like An Immense, Inexorable Torture-garden…passions, Greed, Hatred, And Lies; Social Institutions, Justice, Love, Glory, Heroism, And Religion: These Are Its Monstrous Flowers And Its Hideous Instruments Of Eternal Human Suffering.

‎the Greatest Danger Of A Terrorist's Bomb Is In The Explosion Of Stupidity That It Provokes.

As Soon As I Find Myself In The Presence Of A Rich Man, I Cannot Help Looking Upon Him As An Exceptional And Beautiful Being, As A Sort Of Marvellous Divinity, And, In Spite Of Myself, Surmounting My Will And My Reason, I Feel Rising, From The Depths Of My Being, Toward This Rich Man, Who Is Very Often An Imbecile, And Sometimes A Murderer, Something Like An Incense Of Admiration. Is It Not Stupid? And Why? Why?

There Is A Diabolical Streak In Me, A Troublesome And Inexplicable Perversity.

While All Is New, All Is Beautiful. That Is A Well-known Song. Yes, And The Next Day The Air Changes Into Another One Equally Well Known.