“The moveless man moves along like the mist. The mist doesn’t hide, but all things are hidden in it—including the fog. Love is the only thing that moves the moveless man, and he hasn't the foggiest clue why his eyes get misty when he thinks of her.”

“Ben Bernanke is like an economist on a misty morning, because he hasn’t the foggiest clue.”

“I’d rather fake my own fog, than fake a steamy love scene. Can I interest you in some mist? It’s homemade.”

“I respect a man not for the clothes he wears, but for the clothes he doesn’t wear. Yes, nudity is an admirable thing indeed.”

“Her golden hair moved like a hundred moths, all trying to saturate themselves in sunlight, while his hair was spiked like cleats, and he wore a shoe for a hat. He said it helped him to headstands while looking up her dress.”

“In the midst of the mist lies a mystery that only The Mythical Mr. Boo can solve. Nothing is more mystical, more foggy, and more less than love, so in matters of the heart I turn to him, because he isn’t real.”

“A man with six fingers on one hand who gets his finger cutoff by the mafia probably doesn’t feel pain, fear, or anger. No, that man probably feels normal.”