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.
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.
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 wouldn’t mind politicians lying to me, stealing from me, or senselessly making life difficult if they didn’t try to claim they were looking out for my best interest. How refreshing it’d be to see a politician honest enough to admit he’s dis...
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.
We all want somebody to share our life and love with. But if there are an odd number of people on the earth, and there’s a 50% chance there is, then somebody is going to get left out. And that somebody isn’t going to be me, even if I have to kill...
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.
Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back. From then on, you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent. You a...
As Mary Grannon, the beloved Mary of The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s ‘Just Mary’ hour says: So many parents are clinging to some favorite story in their own youth and measuring all children's material by it—forgetting what the last mi...
I believe we write our own stories. And each time we think we know the end - we don't. Perhaps luck exists somewhere between the world of planning, the world of chance, and in peace that comes from knowing that you just can't know it all. You know, l...
i think through it all, the hardest part was un-attaching myself to the ones I thought would stay around forever. People change and life changes with it, you've got to fight like mad for everything you love and let go with ease for everything that is...
Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. Plot is observed after the fact rather than before. It cannot precede action. It is the chart that remains when an a...
Sit, unplanted, with your back to a tree, or to your . If sorrow drowns the hour, let yourself , each hurt recalled, the heart a of old wounds. If startled by joy, let yourself Light dims, the air cools your . Unclear , what it is you’re - each mon...
Guess what? “Someday” almost never comes around. It gets lost somewhere between the shouda, woulda, couldas of your life. Let go of whatever is holding you back and dare to live – boldly, bravely, and courageously - now. Remember, none of these...
Shut up…let me tell you, LET ME. Every time I look at your face or even remember it, it wrecks me. And the way you are with me and you’re just fun and you shit all over me and you make fun of me and you’re real. I don’t have enough time in an...
