“This is the true story of my life, as told by a complete liar (me). While that sounds like an honest statement, it’s also a lie. I just can’t help myself. Unless I’m helping myself to seconds at dinner. You see, I can’t possibly be a complete liar, because I’m a rather incomplete person. I look complete on the outside—two arms, legs, ears, eyes, etc—but on the inside I feel half empty at times. If I were a glass of water, I’d make myself thirstier for more than I could supply. I thirst for love like a straw in the Sahara. I hunger for your body like a cannibal in the mountains. Wait, that last bit wasn’t true. I should have said cannibal on a deserted island.”

“I want to find myself as a person, and I’ve enlisted the help of my clone to aid me in this. It’s like finding Waldo, except I’m only half wearing the red and white sweater, because I’m only half-finished knitting it.”

“Just because I flap my arms, that doesn’t make me a bird. No, I’m a bird because I believe myself to be. That’s the power of faith.”

“I waste more time trying to save time than I would if I were merely inefficient. One woman told me I make love like a fish in the desert, and I believed her, because she looked like a dry fish fucker to me.”

“A brick could be used to crush grapes. If that sounds unnecessarily cruel, then I guess you wouldn’t like to pour you a glass of wine. It’s a shame, because I made it myself. 
”

“Maybe I could hear better if my ears weren’t flipped inside out. Unlike a cat’s ears, you can’t tell mine are flipped over. But they must be, because I only seem to listen to myself.
”

“Where was I last night? I don’t remember myself. I mean I remember me—I didn’t suffer from an out-of-body experience—but I myself don’t remember. I remember being there, but not where there was, or being a being—I just was—I was simply existing and I wasn’t focusing on is or how or why, and certainly not where or when. I hope this clarifies the issue for you. I think I’ve been more than helpful.”