No, friends were like clothes: fine while they lasted but eventually they wore thin or you grew out of them.

You can live your whole life not realizing that what you're looking for is right in front of you.

This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today.

The true writer, the born writer, will scribble words on scraps of litter, the back of a bus tickets, on the wall of a cell.

Dexter, I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will. I just don't like you anymore. I'm sorry.

Call me sentimental, but there's no-one in the world that I'd like to see get dysentery more than you

You're gorgeous, you old hag, and if I could give you just one gift ever for the rest of your life it would be this. Confidence. It would be the gift of confidence. Either that or a scented candle

A moment passed, perhaps half a second when their faces said what they felt, and then Emma was smiling, laughing, her arms around his neck.

If you're my friend I should be able to talk to you but I can't, and if I can't talk to you, well, what is the point of you? Of us?

Maybe we've grown out of each other.

You start out wanting to change the world through language, and end up thinking it's enough to tell a few good jokes.

Title: What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth, Given the Experience of the Past Million Years? Only verse: Nothing.

(To the haters) You are not extinguishing the bright lights of mankind, you're simply burying yourself in an unmarked grave.

It is a matter of shame that in the morning the birds should be awake earlier than you.

Those whom God calls to such a ministry - and a call is essential - must be prepared for a pathway of unpopularity and misunderstanding. "You troubler of Israel" was the way Ahab addressed Elijah.

Don't you miss the days when America was just morally bankrupt?

Never take a mulligan on a par 3. A "hole in three" is not a fun story to relive.

Life is good, but Wine is better.

They do not think, therefore they are not.

I had absolutely no trauma in my childhood. If anyone ever assumed that my books were autobiographical, they'd be sorely disappointed, because none of these things happened to me.

Oh, brother wearers of motley, are there not moments when one grows sick of grinning and trembling and the jingling of cap and bells?