Truth usually makes no sense. If your desire is for everything to make perfect sense, then you should take refuge in fiction. In fiction, all threads tie together in a neat bow and everything moves smoothly from one point to the next to the next. In real life, though... nothing makes sense. Bad things happen to good people. The pious die young while the wicked live until old age. War, famine, pestilence, death all occur randomly and senselessly and leave us more often than not scratching our heads and hurling the question 'why?' into a void that provides no answers.

...They are merely scars, not mortal wounds and you must use them to propel you forward.

To the brave crew and passengers of the Kobayshi Maru…sucks to be you.

If we can't alter the tide of events, at least we can be nearby with towels to mop up.

What do we think of sex on television? Frankly, I think it's a pain. For one thing, the cable box gets wedged into your back and gets real uncomfortable.

Why (he wondered rhetorically) do people who have a position that's being attacked constantly state that they have a right to say it, as if the right itself-rather than the statement-has been challenged?

I resisted the temptation to turn around and stick out my tongue in derision at Beliquose. After all, there was no telling when or if we should meet again, and I certainly did not need him saying, 'Ah yes, Poe, the fellow whose trespasses i could have forgiven in their entirety... except for the tongue thing. Yes, for that, you must surely die.'