“Present, n. That part of eternity dividing the domain of disappointment from the realm of hope.”

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.

Fear has no brains; it is an idiot.

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.

If I’m the champion, the whole UFC division should be ashamed of themselves for a guy that had no damn skills being the champion. They should all just go relocate somewhere.

This heavyweight division, it takes just one punch for anyone. It doesn’t matter how hard you train or what.

I don’t care where I’m at in the heavyweight division. As long as I win enough, so they keep me. That’s about it.

It’s like I say all the time, it’s the heavyweight division. It doesn’t matter if the guys a black belt or if he’s a world-class boxer. We still have a 50-50 chance.

We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.

I will fight in many weight divisions.

Most human beings spend their lives battling with opposing inner forces: what they think they should do versus what they are doing; how they feel about themselves versus how they are; whether they think they’re right and worthy or wrong and unworthy.

The separate self is just the conglomeration of these opposing forces. When the self drops away, inner division drops away with it.