The ideal Government of all reflective men, from Aristotle onward, is one which lets the individual alone - one which barely escapes being no government at all.

Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.

On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.

The demagogue is one who preaches doctrines he knows to be untrue to men he knows to be idiots.

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.

Morality is doing what is right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you are told, no matter what is right.

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.

Democracy is a pathetic belief in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance.

The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule.

It is inaccurate to say that I hate everything. I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty, and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible for public office.

Democracy is also a form of worship. It is the worship of Jackals by Jackasses.

Discover your calling and add value to it

Eviction is a cause, not just a condition, of poverty.

You can lie in any language on earth, and body language is no exception.

His fingers caressed the column of my tense throat. I shivered in fear. I hated not being able to see what was happening, it forced me to feel everything.

Life stinks, but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it.

Who originated that most exquisite of inquisitions, the condolence system?

These times are so hard, and they're getting even harder.

These are the sensations and feelings that are gradually blunted by education, staled by custom, rejected in favor of social conformity.

If you really know... what you want and how to get there, then everything else really falls into place.

Who are we but the stories we tell about ourselves, particularly if we accept them?