The artist makes his living by pretending, by putting it in a meaningful hole though no such holes exist.

They tell him that there is no why, since the moment simply is and since all of them are trapped in the moment, like bugs in amber.

It shook up Trout to realize that even he could bring evil into the world — in the form of bad ideas.

No good at life, but very funny sometimes with the commentary.

Historians in the future, in my opinion, will congratulate us on very little other than our clowning and our jazz.

He became fubar in the classic way, which is to say that he was the victim of a temporary arrangement that became permanent.

I'm a doctor of cowshit, pigshit, and chickenshit.....when you doctors figure out what you want, you'll find me out in the barn shoveling my thesis.