I very much believe in the Intentional Fallacy. If Donald Trump lies and dopes and bumbles and staggers his way into peace in the middle east, he gets credit for it. He owns it.

Donald Trump would never belong to a church that required a ten percent hit. He's too smart.

The intelligent Trump supporter will be someone who is so cynical about politics that he wants the world blown up, and doesn't care if the person doing the blowing up is an obnoxious, infantile vulgarian. I don't know where to find these people. Do you?

Shakespeare was such a splendid vulgarian.

I feel like no matter what happens in my career endeavors after today, going to grad school is one of the best decisions I've ever made.

It is a cliche, and it is also true, that humor springs from existential pain - from a need to blunt the awareness that life is essentially a fatal disease of unpredictable symptoms and unknown duration.

I really value unforgettable moments. Things you can tell people about. We have too few of them in our lives, and it is all too seldom that we can create one such moment for a stranger.