The world has no patience for spinsters. It spits them out.

Hateful bitch of a world, it wouldn't ever last.

You are the pits of the world! Vultures! Trash!

Piss on the world, or it’ll piss on you.

This is no world for gentle people

The world itself makes you sick of the world.

For nonconformity the world will whip you with its displeasure.

Curse the blasted, jelly-boned swines, the slimy, the belly-wriggling invertebrates, the miserable sodding rotters, the flaming sods, the sniveling, dribbling, dithering palsied pulse-less lot that make up England today. They've got white of egg in their veins, and their spunk is that watery its a marvel they can breed. They can nothing but frog-spawn — the gibberers! God, how I hate them! God curse them, funkers. God blast them, wish-wash. Exterminate them, slime. I could curse for hours and hours — God help me.

The world, as it is now, wants to die, wants to perish — and it will.

Ambitious men will not wait and unscrupulous men will not hang back. By their every action they will hasten the decay of the worlds.

The world is turning into a cesspool of imbeciles.

Al Sharpton and Company need to be deported. ANYWHERE

The world gave one so many reasons to be pissed off at it.

Those in pain have no time for the pain they cause.