“Can you tell by where my eyes are looking what I’m thinking? Hint: I’m staring directly at your vagina.”

“Look, I’ve got her, I’m carrying her, and I’m taking her to the hospital. So you can back off and let me do what I’m going to do, or you can get your ass kicked and I’m still going to do what I’m going to do. Your choice.”

“If I’m happy, my eyes are chestnut; if I’m surprised, my eyes are hazelnut; if I’m afraid, my eyes look like they just shit themselves; and if I’m crying, my eyes get lighter and greener, like an anorexic leprechaun.”

“There are moments in my life when I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m supposed to do. I pay attention to them. They’re my cosmic landmarks, letting me know I’m on the right path. Now that I’m older and can look back and see where I missed a turn here and there, and know the price I paid for those oversights, I try to look sharper at the present.”

“My eyes change color depending on my mood and what I’m wearing. If I’m wearing an acorn brown shirt, my eyes look like squirrel fur. And if I’m wearing no shirt at all, my eyes look more nude and flesh-colored. I guess my ex girlfriend, Zelda, said it best when her friend asked her what I look like and she said: “He looks like you’d imagine him to look like, if you had no imagination.”

“Does my face not look hungry? My mouth is the path and mouthpiece to my stomach, so I’d believe what I’m telling you if I were inside your ears.”