Humor is just another defense against the universe.
Mel BrooksRead
Look, I don't want to wax philosophic, but I will say that if you're alive you've got to flap your arms and legs, you've got to jump around a lot, for life is the very opposite of death, and therefore you must at very least think noisy and colorfully, or you're not alive.
Interpretation
Embrace life with energy and enthusiasm, as it stands in stark contrast to death.
Mel Brooks emphasizes the importance of living life to the fullest, encouraging a vibrant and expressive attitude. By equating the vibrancy of life with noise and color, he suggests that a passive existence is akin to not truly living, urging everyone to engage actively with the world around them.
In practice
In a motivational speech about embracing new experiences.
Humor is just another defense against the universe.
You got to be brave. If you feel something, you've really got to risk it.
Hope for the Best. Expect the worst. Life is a play. We're unrehearsed.
If you're quiet, you're not living. You've got to be noisy and colorful and lively.
We want to get people laughing; we don't want to offend anybody.
Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.
Nobody's life is a bed of roses. We all have crosses to bear, and we all just do our best. I would never claim to have the worst situation. There are many widows, and many people dying of AIDS, many people killed in Lebanon, people starving all over the planet. So we have to count our lucky stars.
Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.
When the other kids started calling me nicknames, I knew everything was all right. I have a pretty big mouth, so they hit on that and began calling me Gatemouth or Satchelmouth, and that Satchelmouth has stuck to me all my life, except that now it's been made into 'Satchmo' - 'Satchmo' Armstrong.
Death, but not for you, gunslinger. Never for you. You darkle. You tinct. May I be brutally frank? You go on.
How many years have slipped through our hands? At least as many as the constellations we still can identify. The quarter moon, like a light skiff, floats out of the mist-remnants Of last night’s hard rain. It, too, will slip through our fingers with no ripple, without us in it.
As I don't know about tomorrow, I never save the best for later.
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