With all the money my uncle embezzled over the years, it’s no surprise he lives in a gated community. But what is amazing, however, is that he somehow managed to get his own cell.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thyeyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

I am an uncle, though this is not a new feeling for me, as I’ve been one before. I’ve also been 2 through 32, and I turn 33 in March.

I inherited a pound from my British uncle. I’d have rather gotten a dollar, because what do I want with an animal shelter?

Of course, in a novel, people’s hearts break, and they die, and that is the end of it; and in a story this is very convenient. But in real life we do not die when...

I want to go to Martha’s Vineyard. I have an aunt named Martha. And an uncle by that name. Neither one is related to me.

My uncle’s a big drinker. In fact, he just got a liver transplant. They replaced it with a bottle of whiskey.

Broke is a relative term, like sister, cousin, or Uncle Sam.

Spelling bees? Spelling bees do not scare me. I competed in the National Spelling Bee twice, thank you very much. My dad competed in the National Spelling Bee. My aunt competed in the National Spelling...

My main nurturing instinct toward children is mild sadism–picking them up and threatening to drop them–which is why I am a good uncle but would make a poor father.

His father was an ass and he is an ass. I imagine sooner than I should like I shall be playing uncle to a litter of asses.

My uncle is a Southern planter. He’s an undertaker in Alabama.

Things are more like they are now…than they have EVER been before!