“I decided to write this piece because my internal critic told me to write it. At least I think he told me to write it. You see, he only speaks French, and I don't speak any French, so sometimes there can be a lot of confusion. In fact, all I really know about Pierre is that he loves wine, croissants, and women with hairy armpits.”

“A Cyclops on a unicycle juggling three giant eyeballs couldn’t compare to the balanced vision my writing presents. In fact, noted linguist and translation expert Dora J. Arod had these flattering words to say about my writing: “I wouldn’t read Jarod’s writing—not even if he paid me to read it. And he does pay me to read his writing, but that doesn’t mean I do.” Of course the quote continued on, but that was the only part that was praising.”

“The wind blew my words away from you. So while I told you I love you, the phrase was carried in the opposite direction and landed 333 miles away in the ears of a confused farmer. He was nice, though. He sent me a kind letter saying that while he was flattered, I wasn’t really his type.”

“People always see me writing and ask me if they can read my writing. The answer is yes, after I publish it and they pay for it.”

“I don’t like writers whose writing is so obvious that I can predict what he’ll write while I’m still taking in his current thoughts. Why, this means that I know what he knows, and the point of reading is to discover things and thoughts which I don’t already know or that haven’t occurred to me. The greatest amusement is surprise. Fellatio! (Bet you didn’t see that coming!)”

“I’d say my writing voice is original, and I don’t think you’ll find another quite like it. This makes me sad, because when all my clones arrive sometime in the future, their only hope is to try to copy me.
”

“I want to write a song about the only girl I’ve ever loved. And the chorus will say something like, “I really want to see you tonight, so I hope you leave your blinds open.”