Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung.

I know a man who doesn’t pay to have his trash taken out. How does he get rid of his trash? He gift wraps it, and puts in into an unlocked car.

If I walked into the kitchen without washing my hands as a kid, I’d hear a loud ‚A-hem!‘ from my mother or grandmother. Now I count on other people to do the same.

I think hygiene is so important.

Man does not live by soap alone; and hygiene, or even health, is not much good unless you can take a healthy view of it or, better still, feel a healthy indifference to it.

There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things that we could use.

An unclean person is universally a slothful one.

All the waste in a year from a nuclear power plant can be stored under a desk.

I’m pretty clean, hygienic and all that, but sometimes when I come home, I throw my coat over there, take one shoe off here, one shoe off there, but I’m not dirty.

Man seems to be the only animal whose food soils him, making necessary much washing and shield-like bibs and napkins. Moles living in the earth and eating slimy worms are yet as clean as seals or fishes, whose lives are one perpetual wash.

Much of India that we dream of still lies ahead of us: housing, power, water and sanitation for all; bank accounts and insurance for every citizen; connected and prosperous villages; and, smart and sustainable cities.

We should all grow our own food and do our own waste processing, we really should.

After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands.