I should go to Paris and jump off of the Eiffel Tower. If I took the Concorde, I could be dead three hours earlier.
My education was dismal. I went to a series of schools for mentally disturbed teachers.
Life's hard, then you die.
I'm a teleological, existential agnostic.
With me; it's just a genetic dissatisfaction with everything.
When a man is driving in a car and looks out the window and notices a woman with a great body, as he strains to check her face out, how does she know to keep turning so the back of her head is always toward him?