Sex pretty much cures everything.

For thousands of years, human beings had screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected me to clean up after everyone. I have to wash out and flatten my soup cans. And account for every drop of used motor oil. And I have to foot the bill for nuclear waste and buried gasoline tanks and landfilled toxic sludge dumped a generation before I was born.

Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head.

Nothing shows you the straight line from here to death like a list.

your handwriting. the way you walk. which china pattern you choose. it's all giving you away. everything you do shows your hand. everything is a self portrait. everything is a diary.

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.

We went sailing one time, and he wore a Speedo, and any smart woman should know that means bisexual at least.