“Last month, Dean Sheeter (whose name usually transports Franny when I mention it) approached me with his gracious smile and bull whip, and I am now lecturing to the faculty, their wives, and a few oppressively-deep type undergraduates every Friday on Zen and Mahayana Buddhism. A feat, I haven’t a doubt, that will eventually earn me the Eastern Philosophy Chair in Hell.”
“Don’t kiss me,” she said warningly.“I don’t intend to,” he replied, smiling a little. “I don’t have my whip and chair with me.”
“All of God's creatures have names, every last one of them. Of that I am sure: of that I have no doubt at all.”
“I thank God for the month of November! I love the month of November. My God, I am grateful for this gracious and glorious month.”
“Even though I know my own name (barely), I still sometimes write my name wrong. Usually it only happens when I write in cursive and am endorsing checks for money I can’t recall earning.”
“I was Halfway to Kale when something hit me. A chair. Someone had thrown a chair at me. What the hell was this, WWE?”