His saliva tasted like the wet dicks of ten thousand lonely truck drivers.

No mat­ter how much I try and hide this, bit by bit, I start to fall apart.

The whole world is a disaster waiting to happen.

She drank a glass of wine and looked for something new to ruin with her lack of talent.

You’ve thrown down the gauntlet. You’ve brought my wrath down upon your house. Now, to prove that I exist I must kill you. As the child outlives the father, so must the character bury the author. If you are, in fact, my continuing author, then killing you will end my existence as well. Small loss. Such a life, as your puppet, is not worth living. But… If I destroy you and your dreck script, and I still exist… then my existence will be glorious, for I will become my own master.

So often with beginning writers, the story that they want to start with is the most important story of their life - my molestation, my this, my horrible drug addiction - they want to tell that most important story, and they don't have the skills to tell it yet, so it ends up becoming a comedy. A powerful story told poorly becomes funny, it just makes people laugh behind their hands.

On a night without moon or stars you can't see a thing, but you can imagine anything.