Yeah, but actually, I've got the same questions about God.

Hey Dad, will you buy me a flame thrower? Of course not. Don't be silly. Even if I didn't use it in the house?

What's the point of wearing your favorite rocket ship underpants if nobody ever asks to see 'em?

I'm crying because out there he's gone, but he's not gone inside me.

Blustery cold days should be spend propped up in bed with a mug of hot chocolate and a pile of comic books.

Every time I've built character, I've regretted it.

Never argue with a six-year-old who shaves.