“Chairs have legs. Four of them, like my father. Meow.”

“I have a rating system I apply to all people. Mao Zedong might have a Meow Factor of four, but I like to keep my Meow Factor as close to zero as I can. This system is not to be confused with my HV methodology, where I assign myself a Hooray Value of five.”

“When I describe love to an emotional Helen Keller, I usually say it has four legs, fur, and possesses the ability to either purr or meow.”

“The four legs of the chair never move, but what if the chair could run as fast as a cheetah? That would be one piece of leopard print furniture I’d love to sit on.”

“Love isn’t stackable and interlocking, like boxes or Legos. Love is like a one-legged man standing on a three-legged chair that is placed on top of a two-legged piano. I should know, because I’m the guy trying to tune that piano, fix that chair, and affix a prosthetic leg to that guy—who happens to be my piano teacher. Mr. Balloonky, you get down from there now!
”

“If I had a wooden leg I could sit on three-legged chairs no problem.”

“Amputate your leg, and attach it to the underside of your wobbly, three-legged chair. Fixing your chair is easy. Ask me how to repair your broken erection.
”