The prospect of change is a many-fanged beast, my dear.

So I am death" Charlie said then turned to his daughter while buttering his toast. "This is death toast sweety.

Blessed are the dumbfucks.

Wet towel under the door,' said Barry. 'It's what you do when you're smoking weed in a hotel and you don't want everyone calling security. You're always supposed to have a towel. I read about it in a guide for hitchhiking through the galaxy.

The pursuit of material gain is ultimately empty when measured against eternity.

. . . And so Charlie Asher . . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.

Like most Beta Males, he didn't realize that being a good guy was not necessarily an attraction to women.