It is what it is. Isn't that how these things always go? They are what they are. We just get to cope.
We Americans are interested only in the consumption of our products. We have no interest in how they are produced, or what happens to them once we discard them, once we throw them away.
This is crap," Shaun said, withdrawing his arm. "Right," I agreed. "Absolutely fucking crap." "No argument." "I want to punch somebody right about now." "Not it," Rick said. "I punch back," Steve said.
My mother once told me that no woman is naked when she comes equipped with a bad mood and a steady glare.
Do I believe in God? That somebody made all this happen for a reason, that there’s something waiting for us after we die? That there’s a purpose to all this crap? I don’t know. I’d like to be able to say “Yes, of course” almost as much as...
Speak English at this table or I will fire you so fast you'll wind up standing at the airport wondering how you got from here to there without any goddamn pants on.
Nothing is impossible to kill. It's just that sometimes after you kill something you have to keep shooting it until it stops moving
Think about that for a moment. They died for you. Now take a good look at the life you're living and tell me: Did they do the right thing?
It was like trying to think about what he’d be thinking if he never existed. He wouldn’t be thinking about what he was thinking. He just wouldn’t exist. It wouldn’t hurt.
Nothing says "deeply in mourning" like canapés and free beer.
You can't win. Logic has no power over her when her territory has been invaded by heathens.
It was a strange moment, like when you get sad after sex, and it feels like it's too late in the afternoon, even if it's morning, or night, and you turn away from the other person, and they turn away from you, and you lie there, and when you turn bac...
George, she says it's the truth that matters. We live and die for the chance to maybe tell a little bit of the truth, maybe shame the Devil just a little bit before we go.
...they come to us, these restless dead, Shrouds woven from the words of men, With trumpets sounding overhead (The walls of hope have grown so thin And all our vaunted innocence Has withered in this endless frost) That promise little recompense For a...
Hire new field systems maintainer" was near the top of my to-do list, right under "uncover massive political conspiracy," "avenge Buffy's death," and "don't die.
I can read. A little. I kind of protested it in School(TM). On the grounds that the silent 'E' is stupid.
Alive or dead, the truth won't rest. Rise up while you can.
Behold the power of the truth. When people see its shadow on the wall, they don't want to take the time to look away.
