A brick could be used in a knee replacement surgery, to build back the wall separating man from a sub four-minute mile. Damn you, Roger Bannister!

We drank coffee like two lovers, despite the fact that we were strangers separated by a window and about two hundred feet. Thank God for binoculars.

I am the Mountain Climber of Love. I should mention that I’m deathly afraid of heights.

I didn’t fire my gun. I gave it a promotion.

Tomorrow night I’m giving a lecture on silence and invisibility. Don’t be surprised if I don’t show up.

I want a house with a garage, so someone from the government won’t try to park a tank in my living room.

I’ll be your Dostoevsky, if you’ll be my Tolstoy. Our life together will be so full of despair that death will be like a gulag full of joy.

I’m Scissor Tongue when I’m with her, snipping out snippets of dialogue before I even speak them. Being in love is best when you’re silent.

I’m thirsting for fame. I’m so fucking thirsty. Somebody bring me a tall glass of saltwater with a side order of desert.

A brick is a polarizing object. Especially if you find it at either the North or the South Pole.

I swallow my own lies with big gulps, as if quickly chugging the chance of getting caught. No lie makes man thirstier than a dishonest I love you.

In the future, I’ll be furniture. Step on me now or sit on me later, but either way let me know how I can make you feel comfortable.

A blanket could be folded up and kept in the trunk of my car, in much the same way that I do with the Chinese gymnastics team before I chauffer them around town.

He didn’t fail to disappoint. He always succeeds at failing.

I’m so excited and lonely all at once. Just once. Not twice, because that’d be a couple, and couple’s can’t be lonely.

A brick could be a columnist for the New York Times, and could even win a Nobel Prize. And why not? Is that any more absurd than both those things happening for Paul Krugman?

I run through all the positive character qualities in my mind, and assign myself a number from 1-10 on where I think I am on each. Surprisingly I score tens on each one until the...

Politics is all about showing you have integrity—and hiding the fact that you really don’t have any.

To say that I grew up without parents is a lie, because I haven’t grown up yet. Also, all six of my potential parental candidates are still alive.

I wish I could bottle up my penis and sell it at a garage sale. But first I need to get a garage.

Love is two unicorns arguing over which is better: one animal with two horns, like a bull, or two animals with one horn apiece. I guess it doesn’t matter, because you should never debate when...

A blanket could be used to make people smile. But the blanket won’t make just anyone smile—it will make people with no mouths smile. I plan on showing a live audience how it works at...

His name was Chase, so of course I ran after him. I wasn’t stalking, I was giving name.

We made love, we drank coffee, and then we went our separate ways. I went west, and she went to hell. Or at least I hope she did.

Bricks could be used to fill my empty trophy cabinet. But first I’ve got to win them.

Politics isn’t dirty. And neither are politicians. No, politicians are filthy.

Opportunity seldom rises with blood pressure.

It’s a conflict of interest, because I’m not interested.

Black clothing makes me look skinnier. If I wear all black at night, and turn out the lights, I look so skinny that I disappear.

I’m always 15 minutes early for everything. In fact, I was born 15 minutes early. That’s why my love is always a bit premature. But don’t worry; just give our relationship a minute—plus fourteen more.

I covered up my mistakes—with dirt, like you’d do with any other dead bodies.

I prefer love songs to any other form of torture.

My grandpa died yesterday. I ought to know, because I shot him. So come, join me in the fight against patricide by killing your father’s father.

I knew I was in love because I had butterflies in my stomach. Also in there I had flowers, a few rainbows, and leftover unicorn from the bbq the day before.

When I found him lying in the ditch holding a shovel, I thought he was sleeping on the job. Turns out he was being even lazier, and he was in fact dead.

I’m in danger of losing my job as official scribe to my inner voice.

Even though I buried our love in a coffin, it isn’t dead. No, our love is very much alive. Or at least it was yesterday, when I went to visit the cemetery.

I give everybody my love, and therefore nobody gets my love. I’m freedy—free and greedy.

More Americans died in WWII than in any other world war, with the possible exception of WWI.

He wouldn’t even understand dry wit if you dropped him off in the desert with a canteen full of sand and a Sandberg poem.

You might think there is nothing more patriotic than dying for your country, but I think there is nothing more patriotic than living for your country.

Sometimes the thing that brings us together also pulls us apart. Sort of like a zipper.

The police made sure he wasn’t dead. Then they killed him.

A fan can be used as a listening device, pushing sound waves towards your ears, along with cool air. I listen harder than a hurricane, and that’s why I have a vacant and evacuated expression.

I moved my hand in and out of the shadow and pondered life and death. Then I put on my lipstick, pulled up my pants, and got back to work.

I was raised in a fishing village in the middle of the desert. I sold hellos and goodbyes just to get by.

If I spent as much time as I did money, I’d be dead tomorrow.

I sell yawns. So when you see me yawning, and you then yawn, just know that’s me giving you a free sample of my product.

It may be 9:01 am, and I may have a 9-5 business, but if you are a politician, I’m closed. Come back at 5:01—and bring your own coffin.

He had short hair. The technical term is bald. I’m sure he would have made a better lover if he were wearing a Donald Trump wig.