The Jews detests the spirit of the nation in the midst of which they live.

Kind of just existed from day to day, on weird plateau of feeling nothingness.

At least I had frost on my nose, boots on my feet, and protest in my mouth.

I say, If everybody in this house lives where it's God first, friends and family second and you third, we won't ever have an argument.

For the impious act begets more after it, like to the parent stock.

We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.

Murder begins where self-defense ends.

Utopias have their value -- nothing so wonderfully expands the imaginative horizons of human potentialities -- but as guides to conduct they can prove literally fatal.

Las Vegas is a city of kickbacks. A desert city of greased palms. A place where a $20 bill can buy approval, a $100 bill adulation and $1,000 canonization.

On the other hand, I'm drawn to top hats, and spats, and mustaches. I haven't read a Missed Connection yet with someone wearing a monocle, but rest assured I'll snap it up if I do.

To say that they are the enemy of the people, among the worst human beings on earth, it encourages and legitimizes an anger towards the press that, you know, I think, fosters this attitude.