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464 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1953
38. The wind cries Mary, but it can’t call Bob. Why?
39. Come down off the peaks of obscure-rant-ism with your rucksack of little grammatical fictions and just whack balls around on the croquet pitch of mundanity. Sometimes a simile makes me puke.
40. If I say ‘raise your arm,’ you know perfectly well what to do and you raise your arm. Now suppose I say, ‘Want to raise your arm. Only--don’t really raise it, just want to.’ Are you quite sure you know what to do in this case? Suppose I say, ‘Want to raise your arm tomorrow.’ Now suppose I said that last week, and say it again next week; is this the same want as before, or a different one? ‘Of course all those queer wants go on in me, and now I want to say--’ Oh, to hell with what you always want to say. Get on with it!
41. My philosophy can only be understood as bad poetry.
42. Philosophy is the disease for which it is supposed to be the cure, but isn’t.
We have met the enemy and they are us. (The Jewishness of this remark.)