“If cats looked like frogs we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Style. That's what people remember.”

“That's what happens when people reach old age; nobody remembers they've been bastards too.”

“The style sounded like I look. What good would it do if I sounded like Sinatra? People would look at me and look at him and choose him.”

“I don't like people. I don't like any kind of people. When you get them together in a big lump they all get nasty and dirty and full of trouble. So I don't like people including you. That's what a misanthropist is.”

“What are you doing?""I'm putting them into the envelopes, just like you asked.""Fold them hot dog style so they fit.""Fold them- what?""What's the matter with you? You're folding them hamburger style, the short way, and they don't fold that way.""What are you talking about?"I took a piece of paper and folded it lengthwise. "Hot dog style, see? Looks like a hot dog." I folded it crosswise. "And hamburger style. Looks like a hamburger.""It looks like a piece of paper.""And you look like an idiot.”

“You ever get the feeling the world's filling up with bastards? I do. What I want to know is what happens when all the bastards run out of people to crap on? What happens when all that's left in the world is bastards? . . . The golden rule. Screw unto others before they screw unto you.”