Old friend, there are people—young and old—that I like, and people that I do not like. The former are always in short supply. I am turned off by humorless fanaticism, whether it's revolutionary mumbo-jumbo by a young one, or loud lessons from scripture by and old one. We are all comical, touching, slapstick animals, walking on our hind legs, trying to make it a noble journey from womb to tomb, and the people who can't see it all that way bore hell out of me.

We were about to give up and call it a night when somebody threw the girl off the bridge.

A man with a credit card is in hock to his own image of himself.

I am wary of the whole dreary deadening structured mess that we have built into such a glittering top-heavy structure that there is nothing left to see but the glitter, and the brute routines of maintaining it.

All thinking is done with the glands. Logic is added later to tidy things up.

If the cards are stacked against you, reshuffle the deck.

Friendships, like marriages, are dependent on avoiding the unforgivable.