I've jammed enough things up my own ass just trying to come on any amphetamine based narcotic.

There’s a fraudulent root element of comedy in that we say things night after night as though they are rolling effortlessly from the brain and off the tongue when in fact they are crafted over weeks and months and years.

People wrestle alligators but not once has someone done it without an audience.

The ultimate act of cowardice is the fat-headed wrestling guy sitting behind the frail kid in math class, clipping him on the ear, saying: 'What are you going to do about that, faggot?' That is cowardice. When the bullets start flying past that jock's saucer-shaped ears, that's not cowardice. That's payback.

You forget, when you're in the Scandinavian countries, you forget they don't speak English first and they speak better than I do.

I sometimes wonder if necrophiliacs are really into dead people or if they just enjoy the quiet.

Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation degrade, as much as indiscriminate contradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a modest assertion of one's own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence in other people's, preserve dignity.