Vice Is Its Own Reward.

It's Written Into The Constitution That You're Allowed To Pursue Happiness. In England It Would Be Considered A Frivolous Objective.

Our Clothes Are Too Much A Part Of Us For Most Of Us Ever To Be Entirely Indifferent To Their Condition: It Is As Though The Fabric Were Indeed A Natural Extension Of The Body, Or Even Of The Soul.

The Programs Constantly Repeat Themselves And One Another. No One Has Yet Had The Nerve To Say, 'as We Have Nothing Sensible To Tell You Between Now And 8:30, Please Tune In Again Then.

What Matters Is Not Whether You Put Your Fork Or Knife Together Because You've Finished Your Meal, Or Something Like That. What Matters Is That You Don't Offend People, Or Hurt Their Feelings By Mistake By Saying The Wrong Thing Or Doing The Wrong Thing.

Love Is The Extra Effort We Make In Our Dealings With Those Whom We Do Not Like And Once You Understand That, You Understand All. This Idea That Love Overtakes You Is Nonsense. This Is But A Polite Manifestation Of Sex. To Love Another You Have To Undertake Some Fragment Of Their Destiny.