That's the way I feel about the world: there are certain problems that can only be dealt with that way - going out and doing them. As ugly a truth as that is, I do think it's the truth about the world.

With me; it's just a genetic dissatisfaction with everything.

Cynicism is reality with an alternate spelling.

Interestingly, according to modern astronomers, space is finite. This is a very comforting thought-particularly for people who can never remember where they have left things.

When we played softball, I'd steal second base, feel guilty and go back.

Does art imitate life, or does life imitate TV?

How does gravity work? And if it were to cease suddenly, would certain restaurants still require a jacket?