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.
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.
Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.
Live by the foma* that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.[*Harmless untruths; The Books of Bokonon. I: 5]
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.[the last line in the book]
Anyone unable to understand how a useful religion can be founded on lies will not understand this book either.
You’ll forget it when you’re dead, and so will I. When I’m dead, I’m going to forget everything – and I advise you to do the same.
When a man becomes a writer, I think he takes on a sacred obligation to produce beauty and enlightenment and comfort at top speed.