Quotes of: Sales-tax Keyword

2 out of 4 numbers prefer being in the bottom 50 percent. Half of all lovers also prefer being on the bottom.

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I love petting trees. Especially if they are fir trees. Single lovers should be good with their hands. I admire Bigfoot.

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I’ve long suspected myself of being a suspicious person. But that’s OK, because suspicious people make better lovers, right?

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If anybody ever tells me to face them like a man, I’ll get offended, because my face can’t grow a beard.

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Maturity doesn’t advance linearly, like you steadily and readily becoming more profound in your thinking. No, it staggers and stumbles like a drunk.

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An empty room holds nothing but memories. At least it would, if I didn’t just finish packing up the last of the sadness.

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The scent of your asshole smells like childhood memories. I mean it would, if I grew up in New Jersey.

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I didn’t make two mistakes all day yesterday. I just made one long one that lasted 24 hours. 

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For most Americans, money and calories are always on their minds, although they burn too much of one, and not enough of the other.

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Love is the thing that holds life together. Sort of like rind to a melon, cloth to a stuffed animal, or money to the time spent with a stripper.

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The Nike Swoosh looks like a crowbar used to pry apart tight wallets. In other words, it looks like a politician’s smile.

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I don’t like breakfast, because I like things fixed and slow. Let’s just take our relationship morning by morning.

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Don’t kill animals! Kill people who kill animals! Those animals must understand that murder will not be tolerated! Also, the animals must understand that murder will not be tolerated!

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If anybody can appreciate fine music, it's me. I mean who else can hit multiple octaves with their armpits?

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I ran a few miles, Davis, and they were musical. Then I made love like the sound of a trumpet, as heard by Helen Keller.

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I always thought I’d make a great backup singer. I don’t practice. It’s just pure talent.

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I think trees should bloom earlier in the spring. They act like they are on a schedule. It’s not like they have anywhere to go.

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My legs are so skinny they’re like arms on a clock. And the stars are like 1-12, if you subtract infinity from the sky first.

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Her name was Janice, but I called her Jan because she was born in December—just like Chris T. 

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My nostrils smell, but not to you. Oh, they have no odor, unless you count the scent of nostalgia, which is what they always smell like.

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What you’d call stealing, I’d call a mistake. Or, if I were a politician, I’d call it an opportunity, and my privilege.

This Book is Not FOR SALE