And still the Weaver plies his loom$$$ whose warp and woof is wretched Man Weaving th' unpattern'd dark design$$$ so dark we doubt it owns a plan.

Life would be very miserable indeed were I to spend it in terror of the thing that has not yet happened.

I cannot let you burn me up$$$ nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.

We all need money$$$ but there are degrees of desperation.

Being young is like being like one of these malenky machines.

We were all feeling that bit shagged and fagged and fashed$$$ it having been an evening of some small energy expenditure.

I viddied that thinking is for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use like inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid.

Colonialism. The enforced spread of the rule of reason. But who is going to spread it among the colonizers?

Language exists less to record the actual than to liberate the imagination.

Society is indeed a contract. ... It is a partnership in all science; a partnership in all art; a partnership in every virtue$$$ and in all perfection.