I don't think I should accept other people's suffering because I suffered. Just the opposite, because I suffered I don't want others to suffer.
There's been cultural rot since there's been culture.
What does it say about the college co-ed Sandra Fluke, who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex. . .
For government to give, it must first take away.
I come from a long ago era where men could be men and stereotypical humor didn't offend anybody.
There's nobody who knows the left better than I know 'em. I know the left like I know every square inch of my gloriously naked body, not just the back of my hand. I know them. I know them better than they know themselves because they refuse to be honest about who they are really are and what they really believe, but I am.
Donald Trump is not intimidated by the media, and he's not frightened by them, and in fact he loves toying with them. You know, while they're sitting there wringing their hands and taking things so seriously and it's the end of the world, Trump is laughing and having the greatest time.
I have a fear of letting my mind wander. I'm afraid it might not come back.
If we're all going to die, shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now?
Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true and we could live in them?
Imagine that you wanted your children to learn the names of all their cousins, aunts and uncles. But you never actually let them meet or play with them. You just showed them pictures of them, and told them to memorize their names. Each day you'd have them recite the names, over and over again. You'd say, "OK, this is a picture of your great-aunt Beatrice. Her husband was your great-uncle Earnie. They had three children, your uncles Harpo, Zeppo, and Gummo. Harpo married your aunt Leonie. . . yadda, yadda, yadda. "