Like God's own chocolate, I'd lick her shadow off a hot sidewalk

Abby: I could be a slave to your darkest desires. I can do things. Anything you want. Tommy: Well, that's terrific, because we have a lot of laundry piled up and the apartment is a wreck. Abby: Anything you desire, my lord. I can do laundry, clean, bring you small creatures to quench your thirst until I am worthy.

It’s like he has this power over me—like I have an eating disorder and he’s a package of Oreo Double Stuff cookies.

I fink I gots deaf on me willie.

Love needs room to grow. Like a rose. Or a tumor.

May the IRS find that you deduct your pet sheep as an entertainment expense.

I think there was always some scrawny dreamer sitting at the edge of the firelight, who had the ability to imagine dangers, to look into the future in his imagination and see possibilities, and therefore survived to pass his genes on to the next generation.