Philosophy first constructs a scheme of happiness and then tries to fit the world to it.

Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.

On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.

The demagogue is one who preaches doctrines he knows to be untrue to men he knows to be idiots.

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.

Morality is doing what is right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you are told, no matter what is right.

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.

Democracy is a pathetic belief in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance.

The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule.

It is inaccurate to say that I hate everything. I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty, and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible for public office.

Democracy is also a form of worship. It is the worship of Jackals by Jackasses.

The small wisdom is like water in a glass:clear, transparent, pure.The great wisdom is like the water in the sea:dark, mysterious, impenetrable.

When you analyze happiness, it turns out that the way you spend your time is extremely important.

I think of my peace paintings as one long poem, with each painting being a single stanza.

Religious tolerance. No! Zero tolerance for any type of religion.

I just bought a Lambourghini, I'm not even into racing with a windshield full of tickets cause I live right by the station.

Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other, That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.

Nothing is sacred. Not even your own mother, not the Jewish martyrs, not even people starving of hunger. Laugh at everything, ferociously, bitterly, to exorcise the old monsters.

My father and I did work for a while at the flea market and there really are rows of Afghans working there, some of whom I am related to.

Poets have the gift to speak for others, Vasko Popa had the very rare quality of hearing the others.

Life is a green madness just now, trying to squeeze the last bit of warmth from the season.