Our love is secret, like the location of the lost Templar Treasure. Quick, grab a shovel and help me look for it.

I speak the language of love. That’s right, I speak Russian.

We made love like two coiled up fire hoses. When there’s no fire in the romance, why not act like a couple of sleeping snakes?

I threw out my sausage, and replaced it with a healthier penis metaphor, like a cucumber.

I want you Jarod.” I left alone that night. Come Sunday morning, I found out that she went home with Jarod Wheedlebreeder. I guess the bonds of Jarod aren’t as tight as I thought.

One day I’ll have my appointment with death, and every day I call out to God to see if I can reschedule for a later date.

No decision has been made,” it’s a lie—because I have decided to remain undecided.

I’m tired of talking. I want you to extract my thoughts through my nostrils.

Jarod Kintz Day—it’s not just my birthday, but it should be a holiday that’s mandatory to celebrate, punishable by death if you don’t. It’ll be a holiday that honors freedom.

Three people are interviewing for a job. The first thinks his odds are 33.3 percent of landing the job. The second guy, so sure of himself, thinks his odds are 100 percent. The third guy,...

To take another person’s life for personal gain is the most selfish act imaginable. Especially when that other person is your clone.

People say, How could God allow helpless children to die? While I look around the world and see corruption, pollution, filth, lies, deception, poverty, and heartache, and I say, Gee, how come I wasn’t lucky...

I make my own luck, and I make it in a pot. Then I bring it to potlucks.

Your fate is like a new jar of peanut butter. It may be sealed, but you can choose whether it is smooth or crunchy.

Some people sleep their lives away. But I also want to sleep death away. If I sleep long enough, maybe death will think I’m already dead and pass me by.

I’ll buy your product and then return your product, and tell you to keep my money, so it feels more like a business transaction, rather than charity, which induces feelings of indebtedness on the end...

Signs offer a way to speak, yet keep the room perfectly silent.

I think it would be funny to dye somebody’s pool red and then throw dead fish in it. And before you run out of there, you could leave a stone tablet with these words etched...

Too many people talk about the weather, and not enough people talk about agriculture. When somebody says to me, “Beautiful weather we’re having,” I always reply, “Irrigation and crop rotation.

That’s like my love for her.” At first I was sad, but then I smiled when I realized I’m more of a sofa kind of guy.

A stick won’t stick to a wall, so why is it called a stick? Likewise, why aren’t love and ghost the same word? Both are dead and invisible.

I don’t know where, but I know how and why. Two out of three out of six ain’t bad.

I’m angry as hell. I’m angry for all the people who should be angry but aren’t, either because they’re too stupid or too timid.

Dead men’s fingernails make lovely shallow-grave shovels.

I talked so much about my product that I sold myself. I bought the very thing I was selling, and I think I overpaid.

Is there a gun that shoots rain? Oh yeah, water guns. How technologically advanced we are!

After my first coaching experience, the field looked more like Gettysburg than a normal defeat. But it wasn’t that bad, as only about half my team lay dead, while the rest were merely dying.

I need love. Here’s a list of other things I need: eggs, butter, flour, and sugar. I’m making a cake for the woman I love—and another one for my lover.

It’s interesting to watch someone think. Glass skulls would be cool.

It’s a new subject to me, and I’m just starting to get confused. The middle is the muddle, and the end is enlightenment. The subject is love, and the end is death.

I like to keep a shotgun in my room for protection. You know, just in case my apartment gets broken into by a pack of deer, which is something I’m constantly worrying about.

A blanket could be used to deliver the darkness on a platter of light. But I’d eat my unborn children straight out of your uterus with a straw before I’d ever be a delivery guy...

When love dissipates, it’s like dancing with daisies at midnight, and you don’t get easy at it when you’re deceased. And make no mistake, you will die before romance will.

And out came an insult with the velocity of a whisper. But I could see I offended, so I zipped up my pants and left the wedding reception.

A brick could be used to bring about a pantsless revolution. A zipper is just a gate holding you back, man.

Funerals, Coffins, and Death. It’s not just a way of life; it’s also for breakfast. Yes, that is the new cereal I’m preparing to launch. Don’t mix it with milk. Pour it on formaldehyde.

If I knew what you’d do, exactly when you knew what you’d do, then I’d either be you or I’d be God. And we both know I’m not you.

I talk about talking like I listen to listening—in a room with mirrored walls that makes me appreciate the infinity that is God.

I wonder if rooms in an insane asylum have Do Not Disturb signs for the doors. I should hope not, because knock or no knock, every occupant in those rooms is already disturbed.

I like my relationships like I like my eggs. Over easy.

I want to be happy and sad at the same time. Yeah, I know it sounds sappy.

I just designed the world’s most inefficient no. It’s modeled after a downward sloping maybe.

A brick could be used as a trophy at your company’s annual award ceremony. It’s a way to save money while making pride and applause at the same time.

Hungry and thirsty? Soup solves both problems at once. My love for you is starved and dehydrated, and all I need is one spoon.

A brick could be used to help define your rigid beliefs. I put my beliefs to bed, along with the hooker I rented for the night.

You will love me or I will sentence you to life in prison.

A brick could be used in a heart transplant operation. And for just $25,000 more dollars, that brick could be switched with a real or artificial heart.

I’ll tell you what I can do, but I’ll tell you silently and invisibly, because honestly, there’s nothing I can do. And what I can do is love you.

A brick could be crushed into powder, like cocaine, and snorted to stimulate the previous highs of the housing market.

My wife loves me for me, and hates me for her.