In Manhattan, marriage is a trend. Couples kiss over their arugula and radicchio salads. They fondle each other's genitals while devouring their pasta puttanesca. By the time the tiramisu arrives, they've slid under the table.

The country is suffering from musical-chairs syndrome. We all dance around for a bit and then when we try to sit down again, somebody doesn't have a chair. We're running scared; we want ours.

Pity the poor infant. Born perfect into the world from imperfect parents.

A sense of humor isn't everything. It's only 90 percent of everything.

[On peanut M&Ms:] It is the eggness of them. A shell, chocolate placenta, proteiny peanut baby. Life shape, birth shape, cell shape, protoplasmic-ooze shape. A shape that calls straight through civilization to our reptilian brains.

Here is Heimel's Law: Anything you fantasize about won't come true. So just cut it out.

Possessions, for the terminally frightened, bring peace of mind.