Sex is something I really don't understand too hot. You never know where the hell you are... Sex is something I just don't understand. I swear to God.

You take a really sleepy man, Esmé, and he always stands a chance of again becoming a man with all his fac — with all his f-a-c-u-l-t-i-e-s intact.

It's one of those places that are supposed to be very sophisticated and all, and the phonies are coming in the window.

What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.

Sleep tight, ya morons!

You never even worried, with Jane, whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy. You really were.

Girls. You never know what they're going to think.