While I’m no Major League Baseball prospect, I have thrown a few no-hitters in my day. And not only were there no hitters, there was also nobody there to catch.
In a battle, an army of farts would surely beat an army of noses, even if those noses were armed with fingers that could flick long-range boogers.
To stop a battle, a politician would propose a war.
Know yourself better than your opponent knows you, know your opponent better than he knows himself, know yourself better than you know your opponent, and know you have all this knowledge and you will be victorious. That’s the advice I’ll give my ...
I’m itching for battle—with a mosquito bite. The only thing in life I’ll scratch at more is the need to be loved. I’m so bloody needy.
I don’t want my love with her to wither like grapes on a vine, so I’ll water it with romance to turn it into wine.
I fell in love with a beautiful girl, got her pregnant, and then I got married. I wonder whatever happened to that beautiful girl I got pregnant.
Amy, she’s got a memory like an elephant, and a body like a meow.
For being so ugly, I think God should reward me handsomely. He should give me the tender hands of a lover—and not those of a self-lover.
Her name was Penny, and she was good looking. She wasn’t a dime, but she wasn’t a nickel either. If there were a coin worth 7.5 cents, she’d be that. And I’d be the vending machine that accepts those coins.
Beauty is beautiful. That’s the beauty of beauty.
She was a tall drink of water, and I was a glass half full kind of guy—half full of lust. Actually, my glass was half full of Kool-Aid powder, which is why I lusted for her.
Where was I last night? I don’t remember myself. I mean I remember me—I didn’t suffer from an out-of-body experience—but I myself don’t remember. I remember being there, but not where there was, or being a being—I just was—I was simply ...
She says he says, but she could be lying to me, and he could be lying to her, so I can’t believe her, even if I could believe her.
I think a funny picture would have a caption that read, “Believe in yourself,” with an accompanying image of a wilting flower.
I can’t believe you think that I can’t believe you don’t think that.
Her name is Faith, or that’s what I believe it to be.
I have a lot of faith. I mean, I believe I do.
I haven't personally met God yet, but when I do, I'll ask him if he still believes in you. I'm sure he does.
His name was Tom Tombstone, and if he had a middle name it was probably Death. But I didn’t call him Tom, or even Mr. Tombstone, because he introduced himself as Robert Winston. And I wondered how this stranger could shake my hand, look me in the e...
The road to hell isn't paved with gold, it's paved with faith. Faith in a dollar that's backed by a belief that people have faith in other people's belief in it.
