A lot of people expend great time and effort explaining why they don't like me, but none of them ever try to explain why their opinion should matter to me. I think most of them sense, but would never be brave enough to admit, their subordinate role in the food chain relative to me.

I've realized there are far more efficient and devastating methods of disturbing people than merely sloshing around in the pigpen with obvious, profane, scatological, flat-brained, grade-school offensiveness.

I don't regret any of my transgressions, because I believe I paid for them a million times over.

I don't think fatherhood's changed me so much as it's conjured protective instincts I've had all along.

People can be so heartless and dirty.

If anything, I've probably tended more toward humor in my writing and veered more toward pleasure in my personal life.

The average human's fundamental project is to find someone else to blame for their problems.