All this hoping for nothing-or someone-that's maybe hopeless

I wanted to talk to someone. But who? It’s moments like this, when you need someone the most, that your world seems smallest.

The handwriting was a girl’s. I mean, you can tell. That enchanted cursive.

Well sure, who doesn't need a boyfriend? but realistically, those exotic creatures are hard to come by. At least a quality one.

I deciced if I were ever to get into booze and women, my line would be, 'Excuse me, madam, but I would really love to bed and muss you. . . . Are you perchance free this evening?

Can we try to be wise with each other for a very long time?

Somewhere between a friend and acquaintance—a frequaintance, as it were.

You should never wish for wishful thinking.

Because I withered under the glare of an actual invitation, I was a firm believer in preventive prevarication--in other words, lying early in order to free myself later on.

It's hard to show you that I tried unless you end up succeeding.

She heard him speak, but did not recognise the problem in his voice – only later did she realise it was that thing he’d been concealing – known as guilt.

That nagging state of constant thought that exists somewhere between the ears and behind the eyes is the self.

I never regret anything.

I expect to play golf until I am 90-even longer if anybody figures out a way to swing a club from a rocking chair.

The other major kind of computer is the "Apple," which I do not recommend, because it is a wuss-o-rama New-Age computer you basically just plug in and use.

I don't think any one person is the cause of all of someone else's problems.

All of us have ways in which we mask and cover our pain.

You can still see the shadow from when the Zeppelin floated over America; it took like Islam in the desert . . .

A joke isn't yours. It's used and you don't know where it's been.

Little drops of rain Whisper of the pain Tears of love Lost in the days gone by.