“Even if there were only seventeen syllables left in the universe, I still don’t think The Mythical Mr. Boo would write a haiku. Especially not if those syllables were groups of “oh,” “no,” “ah,” “ouch,” “ugh,” “eek,” and “shit!”
“Someday I want to write a sixteen-syllable Haiku about the death and disappearance of a monosyllabic word.”
“The key to all knowledge comes in words of just one syllable, apparently.... There's only the last page left to write on. I'll fill it with words of just one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.”
“There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.”
“Orafoura doesn’t know shit about what I said, said Orafoura, quoting The Mythical Mr. Boo to me about the shit that’s been said about him.”
“The Mythical Mr. Boo is so mythical the he always likes to be the centaur of attention.”