“A brick has eight edges and six sides. That’s nearly as many sides as a politician takes when discussing a binary issue.
”

“A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s something: A brick has six sides, and love—wait, no, love only has five sides. Damn! A brick is red, and love—is transparent (visually it’s invisible, and truthfully it’s transparent). So color is out, shape is out—which leaves sound. A brick is silent, while love sounds like the hum of an electric generator. After a while, you may not hear it and you think it’s silent, but that’s only because you’re acclimated to it and have tuned it out.
”

“My love has six sides, but it’s not a coffin. That’s just an optical illusion. Still, one day my love for you will be the death of me.”

“There are at least two sides to every issue, and I like my issues sunny side up. I also like bacon and toast on the side. Are you eating what I’m saying?”

“A pastor, a politician, and a brick walk into a bar, and the bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve rigid nonthinkers here.” So the brick and the pastor look at the politician, who turns around and leaves.
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“Bricks could be used to pad the pockets of crooked politicians. Why stuff their greedy pockets with cash, when we could load them up with bricks and find out how good of swimmers they are?
”

“I don’t sleep on the left side of the bed, or the right side, because there is a third option: to not sleep. After all, sleep is like death. Ah, but that’s life, no?”