We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

I'm not happy on vacation. In those rare times when I have three hours with no work I have to do, I'm terribly uncomfortable.

The best things in life are silly.

He changed more times than a baby in a beer-drinking contest.

I keep hearing the argument that some things are constitutional while other things are not. The idea is that we should be in favor of all the things that were decided over 200 years ago by a bunch of slave-owning cross-dressers who pooped in holes.

If you work in the city long enough, it begins to deal with you on a personal level. Streets reveal their moods. Sometimes the signal light loves you. Sometimes they fight you. When you're hunting for a new building, you hope the city is on your side. You have to use a little bit of thinking--you might call it the process of elimination--and you need a little bit of instinct, but not too much of either. If you think too hard, you overshoot your target and end up at the Pier or the Tenderloin. If you relax and let the city help, the destination does all the work for you.

God designs people's emotions so you fall in love with people who, in return, wouldn't even use your hollowed-out skull for a spittoon.