Did you send candy and flowers on Valentine's Day, Wells? It's okay, you know. He was a saint.
Death smiles at us all and all a man can do is smile back.
Good intentions and a dime won't get you a damned thing in this world...
When you’re drowning in Hell, even a cement life jacket can look good.
When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not.
Twenty percent? What am I, your waiter? I got you five vampires, not a BLT.
Traven stares at Cherry grinding away on my crotch. He looks like the most puzzled holy man since Jesus saw Judas order fajitas at the Last Supper.
They’re a year closer and I’m on the street like a goddamn lost dog wondering if I’ll ever find my way back home.
The Magistrate and Empress stand arm in arm like the monster-movie American Gothic.
That sounds like the sin of pride, Marshal. Better run downstairs and let Miss December flog it out of you. Webcam it and charge by the minute. You won't ever have to take government money again.
Thanks, but sometimes I think my sins are the only thing holding me together
Soon I see that I was right. A bright pinprick of light flares in the distance. It’s either Heaven or we’re about to get hit by the 3:10 to Yuma.
She'd [Allegra] look like Foxy Brown's little sister, except her head is SHAVED SMOOTH.
She looks like a librarian with some money and good taste in clothes, but underneath the Versace, she's Godzilla with tits.
She hands me back the bottle. The stuff we’re drinking is vile. Greasy and fishy, but even flounder-flavored turpentine will taste good when it’s the only drink in town.
Ray comes out a few seconds later, wiping his hands on a small towel. He’s in a white shirt and tan pants. In good shape. He’s sandy haired and wearing Buddy Holly glasses. Ray could be a computer pro...
On mobile phones: It looks like a TV remote fucked a little typewriter and this is the bastard offspring
Oh God. It’s like you’re smoking a pig’s ass, and the pig isn’t well.
Ninety-nine percent of these guys are the same. They cruise along in a bubble of dude-bro privilege, then can’t stand it when the world lets them know they’re nothing special. Then everyone has to pay...
Most people are idiots. There's nothing worse than idiots who tell you their opinions.