You can't stop progress, but you can help decide what is progress and what isn't.

I am irrevocably committed to being permanently indecisive.

I have many unrecognized talents, but my faults have somehow succeeded in securing wide recognition.

Why aren't you more grateful when I prove how wrong you've been?

I will always love the false image I had of you.

What could possibly be more fantastic than reality?

Is it you and I who are crazy, or is it everybody else?