Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before.
Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.
There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.
Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.
I am a very bad scientist. I will do anything to make a human being feel better, even if it's unscientific. No scientist worthy of the name could say such a thing.
Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.
New knowledge is the most valuable commodity on earth. The more truth we have to work with, the richer we become.
Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder 'why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand.
People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.
Live by the harmless untruths that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.
The Fourteenth Book is entitled, "What can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth, Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?" It doesn't take long to read The Fourteenth Book. It consists of one word and a period. This is it: "Nothing.
In the beginning, God created the earth, and he looked upon it in his cosmic loneliness. And God said, "Let Us make living creatures out of mud, so the mud can see what We have done." And God created every living creature that now moveth, and one was man. Mud as man alone could speak. God leaned close to mud as man sat, looked around, and spoke. "What is the purpose of all this?" he asked politely. "Everything must have a purpose?" asked God. "Certainly," said man. "Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this," said God. And He went away.
After the thing went off, after it was a sure thing that America could wipe out a city with just one bomb, a scientist turned to Father and said, 'Science has now known sin.' And do you know what Father said? He said, 'What is sin?
See the cat? See the cradle?
Sometimes I wonder if he wasn't born dead. I never met a man who was less interested in the living. Sometimes I think that's the trouble with the world: too many people in high places who are stone-cold dead.
"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before," Bokonon tells us. "He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."
Americans... are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.
I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. Lucky me, lucky mud.
Anyone unable to understand how useful religion can be founded on lies will not understand this book either.
I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to die. To their everlasting honor and our everlasting shame, they do die like men, thus making possible the manly jubilation of patriotic holidays. But they are murdered children all the same.
She hated people who thought too much. At that moment, she struck me as an appropriate representative for almost all mankind.
If I were a younger man, I would write a history of human stupidity; and I would climb to the top of Mount McCabe and lie down on my back with my history for a pillow; and I would take from the ground some of the blue-white poison that makes statues of men; and I would make a statue of myself, lying on my back, grinning horribly, and thumbing my nose at You Know Who.
Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter could be said to remedy anything.
She was a fool, and so am I, and so is anyone who thinks he sees what God is Doing, [writes Bokonon].
The highest possible form of treason is to say that Americans aren’t loved wherever they go, whatever they do.
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