I'm not really into comfort books. There are too many of those as it is. Just sort of narcotic books, like my grandmother used to read. They have value like Paxil has value, but there's plenty of them in the world already. There's a shortage of confronting, stimulating, exciting books.

Until today, it really pissed me off that I'd become this totally centered Zen Master and nobody had noticed. Still, I'm doing the little FAX thing. I write little HAIKU things and FAX them around to everyone. When I pass people in the hall at work, I get totally ZEN right in everyone's hostile little FACE.

The girl's lover was gone, but his shadow was still there.

It’s weird to think the place where we’re standing will only be a point in the sky.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

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

Idiot people like Angel Delaporte who look for a supernatural reason for ordinary events, those people drive Misty nuts.