Satire is a sort of glass wherein

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody’s face but their own.  ~Jonathan Swift, The Battle of the Books, 1704LCD

Not to be born at all would

Not to be born at all would be the best thing for man, never to behold the sun’s scorching rays; but if one is born, then one is to press as quickly as possible to the portals of Hades, and rest there under the earth.  ~ThiognisLO

The only thing that could spoil a

The only thing that could spoil a day was people.  People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.  ~Ernest Hemingway

I put the question directly to myself

[I] put the question directly to myself:  "Suppose that all your objects in life were realized; that all the changes in institutions and opinions which you are looking forward to, could be completely effected at this very instant:  would this be a great joy and happiness to you?"  And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly answered, "No!"  ~John Stuart Mill, Autobiography, 1909LCD

Why is it that we rejoice at

Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral?  Is it because we are not the person involved?  ~Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson, 1894CTO

Youre obliged to pretend respect for people

You’re obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd.  You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation.  It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced.  In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers.  That’s the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world.  ~Octave Mirbeau, Torture Garden

All our lives we are putting pennies

All our lives we are putting pennies – our most golden pennies – into penny-in-the-slot machines that are almost always empty.  ~Logan Pearsall Smith

Many of us go through life feeling

Many of us go through life feeling as an actor might feel who does not like his part, and does not believe in the play.  ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic’s Notebook, 1960CDN

Fate stalks us with depressing monotony from

Fate stalks us with depressing monotony from womb to tomb, and, when we are least expecting it, deals us a series of crushing blows from behind.  ~Hesketh Pearson, The Whispering GalleryNOT Thomas Hardy as stated in the book, he made that up

Oh for a lodge in some vast

Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more.
~William CowperQSO

Perhaps if we saw what was ahead

Perhaps if we saw what was ahead of us, and glimpsed the crimes, follies, and misfortunes that would befall us later on, we would all stay in our mother’s wombs, and then there would be nobody in the world but a great number of very fat, very irritated women.  ~Lemony Snicket

I hate to be near the sea

I hate to be near the sea, and to hear it raging and roaring like a wild beast in its den.  It puts me in mind of the everlasting efforts of the human mind, struggling to be free and ending just where it began.  ~William Hazlitt

Man is the cruelest animal at tragedies

Man is the cruelest animal.  At tragedies, bullfights, and crucifixions he has so far felt best on earth; and when he invented hell for himself, behold, that was his very heaven.  ~Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra, 1892LCD

I advise you to go on living

I advise you to go on living solely to enrage those who are paying your annuities.  It is the only pleasure I have left.  ~Voltaire

I do not believe in revealed religion

I do not believe in revealed religion – I will have nothing to do with your immortality; we are miserable enough in this life, without speculating on another.  ~Lord Byron, 1778-1824, letter to Rev. Francis Hodgson, 1811