I guided my heap into the heart of Capitol Hill wondering for the first time in fourteen years what I could do to get money besides drive cabs or rob banks. Both occupations had their pros and cons. For instance, bank robbery isn't quite as dangerous as cab driving, but it pays better.

It's a funny thing about writing. You get so balled up in a story idea that you lose your perspective and forget that human being might read your words someday.

... occasionally I see rich-looking women on Rollerblades gripping leashes and being towed bodily by golden retrievers. That's my kind of jogging.

Work/Loaf Ratio”...I have spent fourteen years perfecting... I won't bore you with a long-winded explanation of the “W/LR” save to say that it is an algebraic formula of such complex numeric subtlety that it can be understood only by mathematicians and hobos.

That was how I was going to get things back to normal-by working. I never thought I would use the words “working” and “normal” in the same sentence, but I'll try anything to avoid facing reality.

I had never liked bullying of any sort, especially when an individual acquires his courage by becoming part of a faceless mob. I always say if you need fake courage, get it out of a bottle like I do.

I've been broke, and I've been in debt, and broke is better.