What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.

There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.

Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.

Absolute virtue is as sure to kill a man as absolute vice is, let alone the dullness of it and the pomposities of it

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

You're on earth. There's no cure for that.