Phooey, I say, on all white-shoe college boys who edit their campus literary magazines. Give me an honest con man any day.

She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the light bulbs.

It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it.

That's something that annoys the hell out of me-I mean if somebody says the coffee's all ready and it isn't.

I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting.

Don't you think I have sense enough to worry about my motives for saying the prayer? That's exactly what's bothering me so. Just because I'm choosy about what I want - in this case, enlightenment or peace, instead or money or prestige or game or any of those things, doesn't mean I'm not as egotistical and self-seeking as everybody else. If anything, I'm more so!

If you weren't around, I'd probably be someplace way the hell off. In the woods or some goddamn place. You're the only reason I'm around, practically.