“How I hate this world. I would like to tear it apart with my own two hands if I could. I would like to dismantle the universe star by star, like a treeful of rotten fruit. Nor do I believe in progress. A vermin-eaten saint scratching his filth for heaven is better off than you damned in clean linen. Progress doubles our tenure in a vale of tears. Man is a mistake, to be corrected only by his abolition, which he gives promise of seeing to himself. Oh, let him pass, and leave the earth to the flowers that carpet the earth wherever he explodes his triumphs. Man is inconsolable, thanks to that eternal "Why?" when there is no Why, that question mark twisted like a fishhook in the human heart. "Let there be light," we cry, and only the dawn breaks.”

“Life is a zoo in a jungle.”

“A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after.”

“Murals in restaurants are on a par with the food in museums.”

“The difficulty with marriage is that we fall in love with a personality, but must live with a character.”

“Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us.”

“The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.”

“The satirist shoots to kill while the humorist brings his prey back alive and eventually releases him again for another chance.”

“Everybody hates me because I'm so universally liked.”

“We know the human brain is a device to keep the ears from grating on one another.”

“Gluttony is an emotional escape a sign something is eating us.”