... I'm the fortieth-ugliest man in this bar. But so what! So what! What if someday she lets me kiss each one of her freckles again? She has like a million. But every one of them means something to me. Isn't this how people used to fall in love? I know we're living in Rubenstein's America, like you keep saying. But doesn't that just make us even more responsible for each other's fates? I mean, what if Eunice and I just said no to all this. To this bar. To this FACing. The two of us. What if we just went home and read books to each other?

freedom is anathema to dreams nurtured in captivity.

If my mother hadn't tried to sell me chicken Kiev cutlets for $1.40 after I graduated from college, maybe I would've been the lawyer she wanted me to be.

People always write on my Facebook that they've seen somebody they thought was me on the subway, and I was cursing badly.

It is a capital insult in this country not to make love to a naked woman, even if she is related to you.

That's what tyrants do, I guess. They make you covet their attention; they make you confuse attention for mercy.

That's what I always liked about science fiction - you can make the world end. Humour is my multiple warhead delivery system.