Mark Twain Quotes

I like thinking about the fragility of the human flesh and our bodies - our decay and eventual death.

Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed.

Despite all the achievements of civilisation, the human being is still one of the most vulnerable creatures on earth.

The abdomen is the reason why man does not readily take himself to be a god.

Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play, Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.

I am not immortal. Faustus and I are the also-ran.

I recognize that I'm human, and the older I get, the more I realize how fallible I am, how fallible we all are.

You're on earth. There's no cure for that.

The human condition is not perfect. We are not perfect specimens, any of us. We're not robots.

I'm totally human.

We kid ourselves that we're trying to be empathetic with the human condition from a distance, but I don't think that is it at all. It's stupid; it's a waste of time. But when the earth flexes its muscles, that's rather different. That's a powerful reminder of where we are.

I have spent seventy years finding out that I am not God.

There are things you have to look at with those world-class players, but at the end of the day, they're not superheroes. They're still human.

Everyone is broken; every mortal man or woman is broken in some way, shape, or form.

We're such imperfect beings. I think that's more often the case than not.

No man, no woman is without their flaws.

Aren't all people flawed?

Life is tragic. You are tiny and flawed and ignorant and weak, and everything else is huge, complex, and overwhelming.

The meaningless absurdity of life is the only incontestable knowledge accessible to man.

People are more difficult to work with than machines. And when you break a person, he can't be fixed.

Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.

It's easy to forget people are blood and bone. They're not indestructible.

The body is what reminds us on a daily basis that we're human. The body defies us, it betrays us, we have to struggle with it, you know. And it reveals in curious and in abiding ways how we are not perfect.

What a frail, easily hurt, rather pathetic thing a human body is, naked; somehow a little unfinished, incomplete!

Oh, we are but soft and squishy bags of mortality rolling in a bin of sharp circumstance, leaking life until we collapse, flaccid, into our own despair.