“Grow a beard, take a bath, burn a billboard”

“My beard has started growing a beard of its own, and I’m stuck having to take it for a walk.”

“You cannot grow a beard in a moment of passion.”

“He drove into the spewing smoke of acres of burning truck tires and the planes descended and the transit cranes stood in rows at the marine terminal and he saw billboards for Hertz and Avis and Chevy Blazer, for Marlboro, Continental and Goodyear, and he realized that all the things around him, the planes taking off and landing, the streaking cars, the tires on the cars, the cigarettes that the drivers of the cars were dousing in their ashtrays--all these were on the billboards around him, systematically linked in some self-referring relationship that had a kind of neurotic tightness, an inescapability, as if the billboards were generating reality...”

“I’m growing an Abe Lincoln beard. On my ball sack.”

“Soooooo, trying to grow a beard?” Nope. Just checking out on life.”