“Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7 of your life.”

How come Superman could stop bullets with his chest, but always ducked when someone threw a gun at him?

Tell a man that there are 400 billion stars and he’ll believe you. Tell him a bench has wet paint and he has to touch it.

Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a racing car not called a racist?

Why, in a country of free speech, are there phone bills?

Right now I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I’ve forgotten this before.

My friend has a baby. I’m recording all the noises he makes so later I can ask him what he meant.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.

Half the people you know are below average.

If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?

You know what scares me? When you have to be nice to some paranoid schizophrenic, just because she lives in your head.

There’s a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.

I have an inferiority complex, but it’s not a very good one.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

My dental hygienist is cute. Every time I visit, I eat a whole package of Oreo cookies while waiting in the lobby. Sometimes she has to cancel the rest of the afternoon’s appointments.

I was thinking that women should put pictures of missing husbands on beer cans.

I was sad because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. So I said, “Got any shoes you’re not using?

Colombia is not how people think it is. We used to eat fish every Sunday at the beach. In the town where I grew up, people did not tell lies.

Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else, subtly altering the way she moves through the day. But today, the Anniversary of the day he died, is a day when all bets are off.

At every hour of every day, I can tell you on which page of which book each school child in Italy is studying.

It was a weird mix of emotions. One day, your best friend could be killed. The day before, you could be celebrating him getting a brand-new bike.

The city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.

Youth is a malady of which one becomes cured a little every day.

One thing that’s true of gritty people is they love what they do, and they keep loving what they do. So they’re not just in love for a day or a week.

And I don’t want to look at you every day, to see you naked,to watch you wandering around the annexe in your crazy dresses and not…not be able to do what I want with you.