When I Don't Make Any Progress, It

Let Language Be The Divining Rod That Finds The Sources Of Thought.

War Is, At First, The Hope That One Will Be Better Off; Next, The Expectation That The Other Fellow Will Be Worse Off; Then, The Satisfaction That He Isn't Any Better Off; And, Finally, The Surprise At Everyone's Being Worse Off.

A Great Deal Of Learning Can Be Packed Into An Empty Head.

I Master Only The Language Of Others. Mine Does With Me What It Wants.

It Is Regarded As Normal To Consecrate Virginity In General And To Lust For Its Destruction In Particular.