When you jump off a cliff, is it better to land on jagged rocks or burning lava? I know this one. The answer is obvious: It doesn't matter where you land. You just jumped off a cliff.

I've come a long way to get nowhere at all, I thought. And I've spent everything I have to get here.

The place looks like where David Lynch would meet Beaver Cleaver's mom for secret afternoons of bondage and milkshakes.

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

Enemies will kill you with a knife in the back. Friends will kill you with kindness. Either way you're dead.

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.

God is the great janitor of the universe. Why things don't work is that we have a janitor in charge, and we keep looking for the landlord.