Killing Time Is The Chief End Of

All Of Us Are Mad. If It Weren't For The Fact That Every One Of Us Is Slightly Abnormal, There Wouldn't Be Any Point In Giving Each Person A Separate Name.

Thought Itself Needs Words. It Runs On Them Like A Long Wire. And If It Loses The Habit Of Words, Little By Little It Becomes Shapeless, Somber.

We Know Well Enough When We're Being Unjust And Despicable. But We Don't Restrain Ourselves Because We Experience A Certain Pleasure, A Primitive Sort Of Satisfaction In Moments Like That.

Sisterly Love Is, Of All Sentiments, The Most Abstract. Nature Does Not Grant It Any Functions.

Justice! Custodian Of The World! But Since The World Errs, Justice Must Be Custodian Of The World's Errors.