“Fear has no brains; it is an idiot.”

ARMOR, n. The kind of clothing worn by a man whose tailor is a blacksmith.

Mayonnaise: One of the sauces which serve the French in place of a state religion.

Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly.

Age, with his eyes in the back of his head, thinks it wisdom to see the bogs through which he has floundered.

The partisan strife in which the people of the country are permitted to periodically engage does not tend to the development of ugly traits of character, but merely discloses those that preexist.

Coward: One who, in a perilous emergency, thinks with his legs.

Money. A blessing that is of no advantage to us excepting when we part with it.

Pray: To ask the laws of the universe to be annulled on behalf of a single petitioner confessedly unworthy.

Life – a spiritual pickle preserving the body from decay.

Logic: The art of thinking and reasoning in strict accordance with the limitations and incapacities of the human misunderstanding.

Vote: the instrument and symbol of a freeman’s power to make a fool of himself and a wreck of his country.

Eulogy. Praise of a person who has either the advantages of wealth and power, or the consideration to be dead.

All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher.

Optimism – the doctrine or belief that everything is beautiful, including what is ugly.

He who thinks with difficulty believes with alacrity.

Conversation, n.: A vocal competition in which the one who is catching his breath is called the listener.

Learn to use your brains as deftly as your powder box, and then maybe you have a powder box and do not need.

The brain, is the most complex thing we have yet discovered in our universe.

When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your god like a soldier.

If critics have problems with my personal life, it’s their problem. Anybody with half a brain would realize that it’s the charts that count.

What I appreciate is acknowledging to the audience that I think they have brains.

To count – really and truly to count – a woman must have goodness or brains.

It is essential to understand our brains in some detail if we are to assess correctly our place in this vast and complicated universe we see all around us.

If I’m not writing about myself, then I sit down with people I really dig writing with and throw ’em out and see if something sticks. Their brain plus mine hopefully will make something interesting and cool and it will just snowball and we’ll have a unique song by the end of it.