“In 1,000 pages of Orafoura’s novel, I noticed he repeated one word twice. It really stood out to me. The word? Sit.”

“Why did she want to see me for 15 minutes? I guess because half an hour was twice too long to say I love you. She also used 1,000 times the amount of words that were needed.”

“Is a picture really worth a thousand words? What thousand words? A thousand words from a lunatic, or a thousand words from Nietzsche? Actually, Nietzsche was a lunatic, but you see my point. What about a thousand words from a rambler vs. 500 words from Mark Twain? He could say the same thing quicker and with more force than almost any other writer. One thousand words from Ginsberg are not even worth one from Wilde. It’s wild to declare the equivalency of any picture with any army of 1,000 words. Words from a writer like Wordsworth make you appreciate what words are worth.”

“As early as 1,000 BC, man had to wait nearly 3,000 years to talk to me. And my first words to the world right out of the womb were: “Love is timeless, but man is not. I think I’m early.” It’s true. I was a premature baby. I was born generations before my time.”

“If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I reminded them of Orafoura’s shadow, I’d have a penny more than ninety nine cents. And even then that’s because I muttered it to myself this morning in the shower.”

“I am Orafoura and he is me. And he is not me. And I am not me. Or him. And I am in love and not in love, and all at once—and twice.”

“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.”