I’m into, oh, murders and executions mostly. It depends. I shrug. Do you like it? she asks, unfazed. Um … It depends. Why? I take a bite of sorbet. Well, most guys I know who work in mergers and acqui...
It’s really weird and I’m experiencing a spontaneous kind of internal sensation, I feel I’m moving toward as well as away from something, and anything is possible.
It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care.Yeah? I ask.What do you care about? What makes you happy?Nothing. Nothing make me happy. I like nothing.
It's as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there ... is ... no ... key.
I'm into, oh murders and executions mostly. It depends.
I'm also staring at the fortune cookie. Its got a lot of blood on it and I shrug and say, as jovially as I can, Oh, you know me.
I'd get confused and write down things just to write them down and I came to this realization that I didn't do enough things to keep a datebook.
I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body
I say, staring at her, quite clearly but muffled by Pump Up the Volume and the crowd, You are a fucking ugly bitch I want to stab to death and play around with your blood, but I’m smiling. I
I mean I tell her I'm sensitive. I told her I was freaked out by the Challenger accident—what more does she want?
I had to put this slim volume back into my bookshelf and drink a J&B on the rocks, followed by two Xanax, to recover from the effort.
God, the name Susan is so ugly. It reminds me of the word sinus.
Confusion and hopelessness don't necessarily cause a person to act.
Careless and not particularly biting, it was easier to shrug off than anything in the first book which depicted me as an inarticulate zombie confused by the irony of Randy Newman's I Love L.A.
Baby, when you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live. You know you did, you know you did, you know you did.
Around here, ‘tomorrow night’ means anywhere from five days to a month. Jesus,
Estaba tan por encima de la ciudad que tenías la impresión de contemplar un mundo enorme y abandonado que se extendía en cuadrículas anónimas, una vista que confirmaba que estabas mucho más solo de lo...
Everyone I know who is successful has issues with their father, regardless of whether it was sports or business or entertainment.
You should never mistake affection for … passion, I warn her. It can be … not good. It can … get you into, well, trouble.
You are a fucking ugly bitch I want to stab to death and play around with your blood, but I’m smiling.