I have a secret goal with my editor - he has asthma and uses his inhaler, and after I send him a new manuscript, I'll have his assistant phone me and tell me how many times he had to get his inhaler out while reading a draft. It's my secret laugh meter.

I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.

Don't do what you want. Do what you don't want. Do what you're trained not to want. Do the things that scare you the most.

Disaster is a natural part of my evolution toward tragedy and dissolution.

Where every day doesn't start with an alarm clock and end with the television.

Any time some well-meaning person forces you to demonstrate you have no talent and rubs your nose in the fact you're a failure at the only dream you ever had, take another drink.

The government says Rant's alive because they need a villain. The kids say he's alive because they need a hero.