It was a great time to be born, because I got to have my own publishing company right from the beginning, so I made more money than somebody would have doing what I did ten or fifteen years before.

Eleven on a scale of ten, honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, it could be that I've lost my way.

My forays into trying to date girls my own age from the school I went to were all pretty tortured.

Talk about celestial bodies.

I was doing my best Bogart, but I was having trouble getting into her jeans.

I want to know what became of the changes we waited for love to bring/Were they only the fitful dreams of some greater awakening?