Writing

The fear of falling in love with yourself is that you will displace no one.

The smell of your underarms is mildly stimulating. If you could somehow forget yourself you know you could be your own lover.

The first indication of a shallow grave is the dirt already underneath our fingernails.

When you get old enough youth is beauty.

Admiration is the trick of participating in what someone has done without doing any of the work yourself.

The person too eager to show what he knows never realizes how much he inspires others to be proud of their ignorance.

The people that we are tired of we usually sleep with.

It is the boredom that would result from losing power that keeps many people tyrants.

She writes about recognizing her "limitations." Such an admission always makes my nostrils flare that I want to jump fences that aren't even there.

What hurts me often proves my existence beyond a doubt. Pleasure on the other hand leaves me in a quandary about who I am.

All sodomites want power for their own ends.

The whole idea of losing ground to each other rarely addresses the issue of limited topsoil.

The cheetah has such a small head that you can't for a moment entertain the notion that he has swindled everyone else out of speed.

People who are head over heels in love with themselves really should be astronauts to experience their own weightlessness.

It is impossible not to see people's contempt for you as a sign of their intelligence.

Trapped in your own mediocrity you can at least make your claustrophobia brilliant, milk it for all the confinement of the absent cow.

Talent shames other people, and for that reason more sensitive souls would never think of developing it.

When you make people think, is it any different than making them walk, run, or jump? Doesn't it in the end have the indignity of any forced exercise?

Just by virtue of being around you lose it. In your absence virtue always accumulates.

The person who sticks up for anything provides the wood for his own burning at the stake.

If your best friends are books, at least you can always be sure that they'll have a spine.

Justice is not blind so much as vengeful, jealous, and full of more retribution than the normal person could ever dream of. Little wonder we've made it into a system.

Even the graceful antelope, like anything that moves, is fenced in by its gait.

Could it be that we are the only true strangers that we will meet in our lifetime, and everyone else has the familiarity of not being us?

If you think people are out to get you, they already have.