Words in a handwritten letter resonate like sound waves.
I’ve reached an era when everything is about doing instead of being.
They might make you feel better during times of crisis, but they suck as grenades.
The paperwork is far worse than the pain.
I am a saint for refraining from shoving pantookas and wuzzles two feet up her ass before I walked out forever. Trust me on this.
I want to hear Bernadette in “Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” say, “NO MORE FUCKING DVORAK.”
It’s not just “talkative”.
We cup Santa in our hands every year and check to make sure he’s well-hung.
Clement Clarke Moore … sorry, man. Don’t be mad, bro, because you’ve been dead for 156 years and you’d make a wicked dust-cloud zombie.
“And now I am going out into the free world, and farm.” -William Faulkner, Monk