“Being a man is bullshit; maybe trying to be a man had been the problem all along. At a certain point you just have to trust someone. Even if it’s only yourself.”

We have learned by now that our beauty does not count as a possession. The only thing we truly own is our legend.

The summer following the winter that my mother took off into something called Women’s Land for what I could only guess would be all eternity.

My father decided that there was no choice but for him to quit his despised job and take me and my brother to the beach for at least the entire summer and possibly longer.

We are renters and borrowers and, in the end, only thieves.

The world rushes through us. We are peaceful. We are as deep and black as space. Staring up at the stars, we see only our own image reflected back at us. We are infinite and we are ravenous.

[Comedy] is an escape from illusions. The audience is…thinking, ‘This bullshit we see and hear all day makes no sense.’

I’m tired of this back-slappin’ “isn’t humanity neat” bullshit. We’re a virus with shoes.

These corporations run our culture, and they riddle it with bullshit.

I love the bullshit morning shows. They’re so stupid but I love them.

There were the usual types of things that happen, in a production, like logistical bullshit, and this and that and the other. That’s the sort of stuff that happened. But I never felt, in a creative sense, that we were ever veering into a place that I hadn’t signed on for.

I want to be around these positive, expressive people who are doing something different and who also want to get the hell out of there and don’t want to be around basic human bullshit.

I don’t know that I’m post-anything. I’d like to think maybe I’m post-bullshit.

Young Baby Boomers were forced to play duck-and-cover in school, in hopes that a desk would protect them from an atomic explosion. It was all bullshit, and they knew it.