“Whenever I hear people discussing birth control, I always remember that I was fifth.”

The objector and the rebel who raises his voice against what he believes to be the injustice of the present and the wrongs of the past is the one who hunches the world along.

The best that we can do is to be kindly and helpful toward our friends and fellow passengers who are clinging to the same speck of dirt while we are drifting side by side to our common doom.

Great wealth often curses all who touch it.

One cannot live through a long stretch of years without forming some philosophy of life.

The purpose of man is like the purpose of a pollywog – to wiggle along as far as he can without dying; or, to hang to life until death takes him.

I am a friend of the working man, and I would rather be his friend, than be one.

Some of you say religion makes people happy. So does laughing gas.

It is bigotry for public schools to teach only one theory of origins.

There are a lot of myths which make the human race cruel and barbarous and unkind. Good and Evil, Sin and Crime, Free Will and the like delusions made to excuse God for damning men and to excuse men for crucifying each other.

The origin of the absurd idea of immortal life is easy to discover; it is kept alive by hope and fear, by childish faith, and by cowardice.

Any one who thinks is an agnostic about something, otherwise he must believe that he is possessed of all knowledge. And the proper place for such a person is in the madhouse or the home for the feeble-minded.

The only real lawyers are trial lawyers, and trial lawyers try cases to juries.

Never forget, almost every case has been won or lost when the jury is sworn.

The truth is that brains have little to do with either the making or accumulating of money.

The difference between the child and the man lies chiefly in the unlimited confidence and buoyancy of youth.

When I was a boy I was told that anybody could become President. I’m beginning to believe it.

The greatest ideas, the most profound thoughts, and the most beautiful poetry are born from the womb of silence.

If men found out how to give birth to children they’ll never propose again.

Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night.

I wasn’t born with enough middle fingers.

And better had they ne’er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.

Where were you born?” “On a battlefield,” [Yossarian] answered. “No, no. In what state were you born?” “In a state of innocence.

The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.

He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.