Books are a triviality. Life alone is great.

We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus!

Human lives are too short to waste in trivialities.

What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?

A scrap of knowledge about sublime things is worth more than any amount about trivialities.

Between friends differences in taste or opinion are irritating in direct proportion to their triviality.

We should treat all the trivial things of life seriously, and all the serious things of life with sincere and studied triviality.

When one writes, there’s the double horror of discovering not only what it is that one so fears but also the triviality of that fear.

How is it that we remember the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not remember how often we have recounted it to the same person?

The Law of Triviality... briefly stated, it means that the time spent on any item of the agenda will be in inverse proportion to the sum involved.

We live in a society of triviality, and my music and what I'm about kind of starts to break that mold and adds more meaning and dialogue to hip hop.

Why is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?

I am all for titillating trivialities. I am all for the epic touch. I could almost say that everything in Time, should be either titillating or epic or starkly, supercurtly factual.

Despite the absurdity and the silliness and the triviality of the entire campaign experience, there is also something, as non-cynical as this sounds, kind of uplifting and strange about watching democracy unfold.

Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality?

The letters and journals we leave behind and the impressions we have made on our contemporaries are the mere husk of the kernel of our essential life. When we die, the kernel is buried with us. This is the horror and pity of death and the reason for the inescapable triviality of biography.

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