I fight with the strength of many lion meows. I love even more ferociously.

Death cannot stop true love. That’s why it’s pointless for me to try to murder all my adoring female fans.

Her name was Rebecca. Or at least that’s what her nametag said. She was making my coffee at Starbucks as I admired how her green Starbucks apron matched her bright green eyes. She had hair...

The radio signal was scrambled, and so were my eggs. I got tired of eating commercial breaks for breakfast.

The six squares of our love didn’t add up to a cube. Still, I took the oddly-shaped box down to the post office and tried to mail it into the future, when I’d be more...

I used to be a bumper sticker kind of writer. Now I’m more developed, and my writing often takes up whole bumpers.

Empty packets of hot sauce remind me of the love I used to have for her. Now all I’m left with is this yummy taco.

I wrote an edible cookbook. The pages are made out of tortillas. It’s also the Book of Love. (Batteries and hot sauce sold separately.)

What I like most about reading is I can read in minutes what it took the author hours to write. What I like most about writing is readers can read in minutes what it took...

Falling in love should be natural, like the food at Moe’s. Baby, I am so hungry for you, even though I know queso costs extra.

Love gives you wings. Icarus and the Challenger both had wings, and so did my first love letter, after I folded it up and flung it at my crush.

I wrote a coded love note in my report for work. All the letters you need to read what I wrote are there—you just have to find them and rearrange the order until you’ve arrived...

Grandpa used to like gravy on everything, including his pancakes. If love could be eaten, I’ll bet he’d prefer it with gravy on top. And I’d have to agree. Love would taste better with gravy.

I believe in true love. But my opinion is tainted, because I also believe in Bigfoot, aliens, and in the existence of honest politicians.

he said.

Even roaches won’t eat McDonald’s. Neither will any of the Donalds I know, and I don’t know anybody named Donald.

Love isn’t in a hurry like a flurry of flowery words on paper. It’s lush and slow to grow its aroma in the garden of time.

As a fiction writer, let me make it up, and let me make it up to you. I’ll pen our love story, if you’ll be my co-author.

The all-knowing yesterday is obsolete today.

The police seemed to think I killed her, which is crazy, because I loved her like a thousand drops of blood dripping down a dagger.

I’m listening.

Language is the proper way to communicate, followed closely by five balled up fingers forming a fist and flying at a face. Violence is never the answer—unless the question is: What the fuck are you...

When a girl says she wants to be friends with benefits, I always ask if that includes dental insurance.

I’d say my writing voice is original, and I don’t think you’ll find another quite like it. This makes me sad, because when all my clones arrive sometime in the future, their only hope is...

Most Wanted.” It’s good to be desired. I’d be honored to be shot at for a large reward, or a small cup of coffee.

My name is Two Dogs Wink While Chewing. It’s not an Indian name, nor one that reflects my cat-loving nature.

Writing all day every day is good, but it’s not good enough. You need to have your clone ghostwriting for you too.

A hug—it’s been holding me back from achieving my goals.

I’d like touch screens better if they were furry, like cats.

People are filing for divorce left and right. Now they’re using those lefts and rights to masturbate.

Feel free to become a slave to your own clone. And mine. Remember, you can never have too many lovers who look exactly the same as me.

The only time I really think is when I smoke, and I quit smoking years ago.

People can cry when they’re happy or sad. Tears are tasty and drinkable on all occasions.

I didn’t get your letter. I did receive it, but I didn’t understand it.

A counterfeit is a knock off. A cat’s tail swiping a knickknack placed perilously close to the edge of a shelf is also a knock off. How do you think my heart got broken?

Love is like trying to put out a fire with a pair of scissors. I have a thing for redheads with short hair.

Word of mouth is often louder than word of hand, although applause can be deafening. I clap like Helen Keller drank coffee—with two spoonfuls of silence.

Do I have cat hair on my face? I was trying to grow out my beard. Let’s make love like two meows trapped in a Ziploc bag.

I’m not a treasure hunter—I’m a treasure farmer. I grow quotes, and each person like Tim Fargo who tweets me is a thrill no shipwreck can match.

At night my shadow multiplies, and clones itself into total darkness. Half of all nudists hate me half the time, and half love me half the time. Sadly for me, the half who love me...

You just tell me when and where, and not only will I not be there, but I’ll also be late.

The early morning is too strong to drink straight, so I need to mix in a little coffee to be able to hold it down.

If I fail to succeed, I have succeeded in failing.

Would women find vampires even sexier and more romantic if instead of fangs they had rose thorns? It’s thoughts like these I think of when digging in my garden, looking for my one true love...

I drink screwdrivers because they help me unwind.

I had a dream about you. We watched the sunset together like a couple of perverts in a peep show. I really liked your idea of cutting a hole in a sheet of plywood, because...

When the silent flamingo dances pink with desire, I’ll be there, sipping on owl stares and kitten curls.

If my house were burning down, the one thing I’d take with me is my vast collection of smoke. I consider smoke the souls of dead cigarettes my lovers have exhaled.

The earth has lots of love to give, if you just know where to dig. My advice is start in the cemetery.

The best thing to do with a seven-year-old is wait until they’re eight to tell them to wait until they’re 18 to start living life.