You couldn’t put off the inevitable. Because sooner or later, you reached the place when the inevitable just went and waited.
You can die for your country or your people or your family, but for a god you should live fully and busily, every day of a long life.
Words are the litmus paper of the mind. (If you find yourself in the power of someone who will use the word ‘commence’ in cold blood, go somewhere else very quickly. But if they say ‘Enter’, don’t stop to pack.)
Winners never talk about glorious victories. That’s because they’re the ones who see what the battlefield looks like afterward. It’s only the losers who have glorious victories.
What’s a philosopher?[said Brutha.]Someone who’s bright enough to find a job with no heavy lifting.[said a voice in his head.]
What have I always believed? That on the whole, and by and large, if a man lived properly, not according to what any priests said, but according to what seemed decent and honest inside, then it would, at the end, more or less, turn out all right.
Time is a drug. Too much of it kills you.
There’s no point in believing in things that exist.
There’s a streak of madness in everyone who spends quality time with gods.
The trouble with being a god is that you’ve got no one to pray to.
Pets are always a great help in times of stress. And in times of starvation too, o’course.
Most gods find it hard to walk and think at the same time.
