“Freedom is something that dies unless it’s used.”

Sex without love is as hollow and ridiculous as love without sex.

All we have to do is get out and vote, while it’s still legal, and we will wash those crooked warmongers out of the White House.

God’s mercy on you degenerate swine.

I damn well intend to keep on living the way I think I should.

Never fire a warning shot. It is a waste of ammunition.

I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.

Ah, lives there a man with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said As he hunched and rolled in his comfortable bed: To hell with the rent . . . I’ll drink instead!

An outlaw can be defined as somebody who lives outside the law, beyond the law and not necessarily against it.

As your attorney, it is my duty to inform you that it is not important that you understand what I’m doing or why you’re paying me so much money. What’s important is that you continue to do so.

The only difference between the sane and the insane is that the sane have the power to lock up the insane.

Wake up and ponder the future.

A sense of humor is the main measure of sanity.

I felt a tremendous distance between myself and everything real.

Human beings are the only creatures on earth that claim a God and the only thing that behaves like it hasn’t got one.

It gave me a strange feeling, and the rest of that night I didn’t say much, but merely sat there and drank, trying to decide if I was getting older and wiser, or just plain old.

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

Death is Peaceful, Life is Harder.

A living thing is distinguished from a dead thing by the multiplicity of the changes at any moment taking place in it.

He was giving up on keeping me alive, letting nature–or rather mob justice–take its course. When he returned, and I was dead, he wouldn’t hold anyone responsible. He would not mourn. All this I could hear in those three words.

The ordinary procedure of the nineteenth century is that when a powerful and noble personage encounters a man of feeling, he kills, exiles, imprisons or so humiliates him that the other, like a fool, dies of grief.

Are they dead that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are they dead that yet move upon society and inspire the people with nobler motives and more heroic patriotism?

Christ has made of death a narrow starlit strip between the companionships of yesterday and the reunions of tomorrow.

You cannot schedule death.

I would die for you it’s true if I could only learn how to breathe around you.