An octopus has eight legs. You know what else has eight legs? My bed last night. Oh, I didn’t have a foursome, but I did sleep with six prosthetic legs (I have a bad back).
When I see a poor person I think of me, and then I think, maybe I should pay my clones for all the work they do for me. Then I think, nah, they’re only slaves. Through my clones, I am a slave to myself.
If you are an approval addict, your behaviour is as easy to control as that of any other junkie. All a manipulator need do is a simple two-step process: Give you what you crave, and then threaten to take it away. Every drug dealer in the world plays ...
I want to live for a very, very long time, but it’s important that I take care of my body. When I am 851 years old, I don’t want to look it. No, I want to look 158.
If artists often get famous posthumously, then there is only one thing for me to do—fake my own death. Or I could just wait for science to give me a clone, and kill him instead. He’ll get my credit, and I’ll get his money.
If I own a business, I work for myself. And if I have no revenue, I work for free. That’s not slavery. That’ll be the case when I employ 1,000,000,000 clones of myself. I won’t pay them, but they are me, so it’s not slavery.
I’m going to name my firstborn son 0123456789, because I want him to learn to count before he learns the alphabet. And my second son I’ll call 01, because I want him to get into computers at a young age.
Her love of words is a private passion - one she would rather not share. In the house of her childhood though everything had to be shared. If she tried to hold anything back, they would search and find the hidden places. Her written words, discovered...
There was a time when I thought I loved my first wife more than life itself. But now I hate her guts. I do. How do you explain that? What happened to that love? What happened to it, is what I'd like to know. I wish someone could tell me.
If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal,...
Every time the wind blows I think of her. I wonder if I could generate electricity off my yearning. Maybe a mind wind farm of some kind. Hopefully I could provide enough power for all the lonely people in my bathtub to stay warm.
I believe that there is something in all of us that is seeking expression, that wants to be heard, that wants to be accepted and respected and loved. We each express ourselves in different ways - through manipulation or domination, through receiving ...
Meditace je opravdu jediná lidská činnost, ve které se nesnažíte dostat někam jinam, ale prostě si dovolíte zůstat tam, kde jste, a takoví, jací jste. Je to hořká medicína, která se špatně polyká, když se vám nelíbí, kde jste a...
Most people don’t know where money comes from. Even most of our elected officials don’t know. If you were to ask a politician where money comes from, s/he would probably reply, “I don’t know, from other people’s pockets?
Whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican, I think everybody can agree that politicians are crooks. But I don’t think politicians are thieves, because you can’t steal what you’ve been given. Once we stop giving in, they’ll stop taking.
This is it, so please don't question it. I love you, I need you, and you mean everything to me. So, will you have me? Please put your all your eggs in one basket because I am doing the same. I don't want a life without you in it so please don't let m...
I slept so long last night that when I woke up I discovered a city had sprung up under my left armpit. This was staggering considering when I went to bed it was just a sleepy town.
I’ll leave a note in the lobby that says, “Moved. 315.” You had a meeting with me at 3:00 in room 315. The number 315 confuses you, so you wonder, “Did the room get moved, or the time?” Both did. You’re to meet me at 3:33 in room 333.
Every day I must prove to myself I am a writer. The knowledge goes away in my sleep. What I wrote yesterday was paltry, meager, so flawed it is barely anything. Or, if it is good, I am no longer the person who could write it.
And yet, winning is like a welcome drink going down your throat, like a beautiful embrace. It is brilliant while it lasts but it isn't forever. The high eventually melts away and the journey of life begins afresh. The truly remarkable among us visit ...
Creative work bridges time because the energy of art is not time-bound. If it were we should have no interest in the art of the past, except as history or documentary. But our interest in art is our interest in ourselves both now and always. Here and...
