“None of us nine with the sixes. That’s the tragedy of love.”

“My love has six sides, but it’s not a coffin. That’s just an optical illusion. Still, one day my love for you will be the death of me.”

“When your family dies, that’s a bummer, but that’s life. When my family dies, it’s a tragedy and the world is unbalanced and biased.
”

“My name is Meow. At least that’s what my cat calls me. But you can call me after nine.”

“A brick has eight edges and six sides. That’s nearly as many sides as a politician takes when discussing a binary issue.
”

“A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s something: A brick has six sides, and love—wait, no, love only has five sides. Damn! A brick is red, and love—is transparent (visually it’s invisible, and truthfully it’s transparent). So color is out, shape is out—which leaves sound. A brick is silent, while love sounds like the hum of an electric generator. After a while, you may not hear it and you think it’s silent, but that’s only because you’re acclimated to it and have tuned it out.
”

“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.”