Love is bullshit. Emotion is bullshit.

Writing is like sex, if it's difficult you're not doing it right.

You can't base your life on the past or the present. You have to tell me about your future.

You always kill the one you love.

Mylife might be little and boring, but at least it’s mine - not some assembly-line, secondhand, hand-me-down life.

Also consider that someday, when you’re dead and rotted, kids with their baby teeth will sit in their time-geography class and laugh about how stupid you were.

To hell with housework, our top priority has always been between our legs.