All Pity Is Self-pity.

The Commonest Ivory Tower Is That Of The Average Man, The State Of Passivity Towards Experience.

The Three Wiseman: The Weather Has Been Awful, The Countryside Is Dreary, Marsh, Jungle, Rock; And Echoes Mock, Calling Our Hope Unlawful; But A Silly Song Can Help Along Yours Ever And Sincerely: At Least We Know For Certain That We Are Three Old Sinners, That This Journey Is Much Too Long, That We Want Our Dinners, And Miss Our Wives, Our Books, Our Dogs, But Have Only The Vaguest Idea Why We Are What We Are. To Discover How To Be Human Now Is The Reason We Follow This Star.

Dance Till The Stars Come Down From The Rafters Dance, Dance, Dance 'till You Drop.

Routine, In An Intelligent Man, Is A Sign Of Ambition.

Our Claim To Our Own Bodies And Our World Is Our Catastrophe.