To hell with your cancer. I've been living with cancer for the better part of a year. Right from the start, it's a death sentence. That's what they keep telling me. Well, guess what? Every life comes with a death sentence, so every few months I come in here for my regular scan, knowing full well that one of these times - hell, maybe even today - I'm gonna hear some bad news. But until then, who's in charge? Me. That's how I live my life.

Oh my God, that is the best coffee I've ever tasted.

Who are you talking to right now? Who is it you think you see? Do you know how much I make a year? I mean, even if I told you, you wouldn't believe it. Do you know what would happen if I suddenly decided to stop going into work? A business big enough that it could be listed on the NASDAQ goes belly up. Disappears. It ceases to exist, without me.

You know I, I just think, that ah, things have a way of working themselves out.

It's kind of funny. When I got my diagnosis - cancer - I said to myself, 'Why me?' And then, the other day, when I got the good news, I said the same thing.

Cheer up beautiful people... this is where you get to make it right.

I'm saying that I lived too long. You want them to actually miss you [...] I truly believe there exists some combination of words. There must exist certain words in a certain specific order that can explain all of this, but with her I just can't ever seem to find them.