My love is divided into three parts. I’ll give you part one and two for free, but for the fourth installation, you’ll have to pay for it.
In the future, man will travel on flying carpets, and shoes that float on water. And we’ll all make love together, as one, as one might masturbate today.
When I didn’t see a ghost, I knew I’d seen a ghost, because ghosts are invisible. This logic also lets me know when I’m in love.
People, they only love themselves because you only love yourself. Love them, and they will love you.
A fly with an elephant on its back would give the illusion of a flying elephant, if that fly were powered by my love for you.
I make love like others make money. You’ve got to spend money to make money, right? If not, then why am I paying for sex?
I live a single life. But only because there’s not enough room in my astronaut suit for two. There’s no love on the moon.
I love Ocala. I also love anal sex with midgets. I mean I would, if I were an averagely perverted politician.
Everything you swallow will kill you, some faster than others. Swallow your pride, and you’ll love a long time.
Love is like a rain cloud under the dome of an umbrella. But I’m cool with that, because that’s what I call a portable shower.
Welcome to Dinnerville, where it's always breakfast. When love is in the air, you can tell it’s about to rain.
I am the WhoBob, but NOT the WHoBob Machine. That would be Dale Elad, who’s also the lead singer of Palindrome Lover.
We made love like two cars that were out of gas. I tried to fill her up, but couldn’t because I myself was empty.
I make love like Jello-O is liquid. And I masturbate like Jell-O is solid. I’m tired of sex with blow up dolls.
We’re all lonely and looking for love, even if you’re fat, stinky, and asexual. You should wear a suit of armor when you have sex.
I watch you while you sleep. Is that love? It would be, if I put down my binoculars, and you picked up your phone.
Today I’m in love. Today is Tuesday, though that’s not why I’m in love. I’m in love with Friday, and I actually fell in love yesterday.
My voice is raspy, like Rasputin’s beard. My love is like a mustache hidden in a patch of armpit hair. Come, feel what I feel for you.
One of the grubby truths about a loss is that you don't just mourn the dead person, you mourn the person you got to be when the lost one was alive. This loss might even be what affects you the most.
You turn the light on, you get all kinds of bugs.
People who love themselves come across as very loving, generous and kind; they express their self-confidence through humility, forgiveness and inclusiveness.
