He wanted her to experience all the glorious cheese of life.

Action based on hope just felt better than the paralysis of certainty.

Do we still have to floss?" Tommy asked. "I mean, what's the point of being immortal if we have to floss?

People, generally, suck.

And he was like "The sedative in the blood, blah, blah, four hours, blah, blah, nerdspeak, geektalk -" -Abby

It was an eight-harlot inn, if that's how you measure an inn. (I understand that now they measure inns in stars. We are in a four-star inn right now. I don't know what the conversion from harlots to stars is.)

Why write a song when no one can play the notes or understand the lyrics?