You forget how crazy people are in New York, all the people on the sidewalk. When you leave here, everyone's in their car. But I get back here - I just went to throw something in the garbage, and there was a guy in the garbage. And he wasn't looking in it; he is in it, looking out over 9th Ave like a fisherman.

It's a wonder you don't see the zebra being trotted out as a metaphor for racial harmony more often.

The best thing about bugs is their lack of self consciousness, also the ability to fly doesn't hurt.

Homemade' sounds much better when not referring to tattoos.

I spend so much time alone that whenever I see my shadow I feel crowded.

People shouldn't take my lack of interest in what they're saying personally. I don't really care about what I'm saying most of the time.

If only St. Valentine was around to see his memory celebrated through the mindless marketing of whipping cream and lingerie.