You Just Have To Smile And Take

A Middle-aged Woman Who Looked Like Someone's Cleaning Lady, A Shrieking Adolescent Lunatic And A Talkshow Host With An Orange Face... It Didn't Add Up. Suicide Wasn't Invented For People Like This. It Was Invented For People Like Virginia Woolf And Nick Drake. And Me. Suicide Was Supposed To Be Cool.

You Have To Work At Relationships. You Can’t Just Walk Out On Them Every Time Something Goes Wrong.

I'd Thought I'd Live With My Wife, But I Couldn't Find One.

Look At All The Things That Can Go Wrong For Men. There’s The Nothing-happening-at-all Problem, The Too-much-happening-too-soon Problem, The Dismal-droop-after-a-promising-beginning Problem; There’s The Size-doesn’t-matter-except-in-my-case Problem, The Failing-to-deliver-the-goods Problem…and What Do Women Have To Worry About? A Handful Of Cellulite? Join The Club. A Spot Of I-wonder-how-i-rank? Ditto.

Sometimes It's Moments Like That, Real Complicated Moments, Absorbing Moments, That Make You Realize That Even Hard Times Have Things In Them That Make You Feel Alive. And Then There's Music, And Girls, And Drugs, And Homeless People Who've Read Pauline Kael, And Wah-wah Pedals, And English Potato Chip Flavors, And I Haven't Even Read Martin Chuzzlewit Yet... There's Plenty Out There.