Chestnuts in stuffing tastes like someone chewed up a tree branch and then French-kissed it into your mouth.

I always think it's silly when people talk about works of culture taking risks. Because there's not any risk involved.

Beef. Yes. Roast beef. It's the Swedish term for beef that is roasted.

It is always cruel to laugh at people, of course, although sometimes if they are wearing an ugly hat it is hard to control yourself.

The Violins waltzed. The Cellos and Basses provided accompaniment. The Violas mourned their fate, while the Concertmaster showed off. The Flutes did bird imitations…repeatedly, and the reed instruments had the good taste to admire my jacket. The Trumpets held a parade in honor of our great nation, while the French Horns waxed nostalgic about something or other. The Trombones had too much to drink. The Percussion beat the band, and the Tuba stayed home playing cards with his landlady, the Harp, taking sips of warm milk a blue little cup. “But the Composer is still dead.

There are secrets everywhere. I think everyone's parents have secrets. You just have to know where to look for them.

It looked exhausting and pointless, two things that should be avoided at all costs