“I’m still unsure as to what draws people together, that is, beyond the really ugly things: money, beauty, family, desperation. But I suppose that if someone can make you feel like you are seeing a new world, or just an old one of the first time, you might decide that you love to be around them.”

“-Good thing you don’t own a mirror, Mr. Mirrorless, or you’d see how ugly you are.
-What makes you think I don’t own a mirror? Every face that ever looks at me tells me that I’m ugly. But every time I make them laugh, I get to show them what beauty really is.
-I see what you mean. Here, take my rearview mirror. I don’t need to carry it around like a vagina on a rope anymore.
-Mr. Thrustsalone, you don’t need to drag a vagina on a rope like some kind of pet on a leash to make you happy. There’s a reason why God invented right hands and hookers.
-Why, so politicians could have more productive ways to spend their time and our money than engaging in politics?
-Mr. Thrustsalone, you are wise beyond your years.
-I’m 88 years old.
-Yet you don’t look a day older than 87.”

“I think LOVE. Love is what brings families together, and love is often what drives them apart. Love can act as both a fuel and an exterminator for fire, a cause of war, but also of peace. Love brings new souls to the family and removes old ones. Love is a chain of memories, like an old photo album of life- you never really can throw it away.”

“I just think people forget what it feels like to really be in love, you know? Like when that’s the only thing in the world that matters. I just don’t want to decide it’s not that important.”

“Look at the ugliness. Yet one has a feeling within one that blinds a man while he loves you. You, with that feeling, blind him, and blind yourself. Then, one day, for no reason, he sees you as ugly as you really are and he is not blind anymore and then you see yourself as ugly as he sees you and you lose your man and your feeling... After a while, when you are as ugly as I am, as ugly as women can be, then, as I say after a while the feeling, the idiotic feeling that you are beautiful, grows slowly in one again. It grows like a cabbage. And then, when the feeling is grown, another man sees you and thinks you are beautiful and it is all to do over.”

“For the most profound experiences in our lives and in the world words are worth nothing. Can you describe love Or death Can you describe what it really feels like the first time you see your child Or the first time your heart gets broken You can try...but it won't come close to describing what it really was or what it really felt like.”