I guarantee you I'm not going to forget your voice. We're going to run into each other down the road sometime, and when we do I'm going to pop you apart one rivet at a time." "There's the monster. Hello, monster.

If Donald Trump and the Wicked Witch of the West had a kid, it would be Jayne-Anne. She looks like a librarian with some money and good taste in clothes but underneath the Verace, she's Godzilla with tits.

We must always look after our friends, even when they are foolish. Especially when they are foolish.

He wore his fear on his skin for everyone to see.

Did I hurt your feelings again? Sorry. When this is all over I'll send some flowers to your inner child.

Don't talk. Kill it." That might be the sweetest thing a woman's ever said to me on a first date.

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?