I'm in love. So kill me.

Make me into anything, but just love me.

Picture anybody growing up so stupid he didn't know that hope is just another phase you'll grow out of.

At this rate, we'll never get to the future.

The avant-garde in every field consists of the lonely, the friendless, the uninvited. All progress is the product of the unpopular.

I haven't shoplifted since I was 13.

Really, just looking around, you feel a twinge of pity for the poor souls who succeeded in getting past the Pearly Gates. One can't help but picture the lackluster VIP lounge in Heaven, a kind of nonalcoholic ice-cream social starring Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mahatma Gandhi. Hardly anyone's idea of a "with-it" social register.