It doesn't matter if you and everyone else in the room are thinking it. You don't say the words. Words are weapons. They blast big bloody holes in the world. And words are bricks. Say something out loud and it starts turning solid. Say it loud enough and it becomes a wall you can't get through.

If Jesus was a bartender, He would still only be half as cool as Carlos.

Being able to embrace contradictions is a sign of intelligence. Or insanity.

I'd like to think they're staring at me because of my white-hot animal magnetism, but I'm not Elvis. I'm Lobster Boy, hear me roar.

I can deal with fighting in the arena in Hell, but laundry and dishes put the fear of God in me.

That's what Glocks are. High-precision killing machines that scream "Daddy Issues.

The universe is a meat grinder and we're just pork in designer shoes, keeping busy so we can pretend we're not all headed for the sausage factory. Maybe I've been hallucinating this whole time and there is no Heaven and Hell. Instead of having to choose between God and the devil, maybe our only real choice comes down to link or patty?