He was a writer and words were his weapons.

Life is loneliness, broken only by the gods taunting us with friendship and the odd bonk

It's very difficult to stay angry when a room full of bald guys in orange robes start giggling. Buddhism.

Life is messy. Would that every puzzle piece fell into place, every word was kind, every accident happy, but such is not the case. Life is messy

He always had a problem with the purity of others. Never his own.

I could stand on my head and flick the bean right there at the dinner table and my mom would be all, "Honey, Christmas is family time, we should be together" and make me finish in front of everyone.

It's like time travel only, you know, slower.