Fear Has A Smell, As Love Does.

People Dressed In A Certain Kind Of Clothing Are Never Wrong. Also They Never Fart.

The Prospect Of His Future Life Stretched Before Him Like A Sentence; Not A Prison Sentence But A Long-winded Sentence With A Lot Of Unnecessary Subordinate Clauses, As He Was Soon In The Habit Of Quipping During Happy Hour Pickup Time At The Local Campus Bars And Pubs. He Couldn’t Say He Was Looking Forward To It, This Rest-of-his-life.

I Am Certain That A Sewing Machine Would Relieve As Much Human Suffering As A Hundred Lunatic Asylums, And Possibly A Good Deal More.

Your Hand Is A Warm Stone I Hold Between Two Words.

The Desire To Be Loved Is The Last Illusion. Give It Up And You Will Be Free.