Revenge is good. It's what separates us from the animals and the hippies.

There's a one in six billion chance you'll find your soul mate. And that's if they're not dead. At best they're probably living in some Siberian ice cave eating bugs and weaving beads into their back hair. But they're out there. My dad believed that to find your perfect soul mate, first, you had to look through a bunch of other guys' soul mates.

I say we spend some money, clean up some junkies and make them all go work for the Red Cross. You ever give blood to the Red Cross? Little paper hatted trainee kid, just sticking you full of holes. Golly, jeez, this is way harder than the deep fryer, how does this work? You get an ex-junkie in there, bap-bap, he's gonna find a vein. You're in, you're out, you got sugar cookie and you're happy!

Anyone can have a relationship but if you're dating a woman who's so crazy in bed that if you aren't wearing your Kevlar one night you might never see daylight again... that's exciting.

A salamander can grow a new tail in three weeks. My dad can score new tail in three minutes.

Nobody's really happy. And as soon as society realises that you can't trust anyone and that hardship is a natural part of existence, the sooner the therapists will realise that they are worthless! Sorry. They have worth deficit disorder!

Satan called - he's changed the sheets, fluffed the pillows and laid out the complimentary chocolate. Hell is ready for John Edwards.