“But if we’re going to kill them all, we might as well make an occasion of it.”Toshak shrugged. “Do as you wish,” he said. “Occasion or not, as long as they’re all dead, I’m happy.”

“An exaggerated sense of occasion, or any sense of occasion, for that matter, will automatically impede your ability to have fun. Conversely, a well-cultivated obliviousness to the conventions of any occasion is guaranteed to up the fun quotient. When people ask me, “What are you wearing to [such and such event]? I’m not sure what to wear...,” I experience a strong desire to kill them. These whiny people, with their obsolete sense of appropriateness, are the Antichrist.”

“Why do people give each other flowers? To celebrate various important occasions, they’re killing living creatures? Why restrict it to plants? 'Sweetheart, let’s make up. Have this deceased squirrel.”

“Unless we make Christmas an occasion to share our blessings, all the snow in Alaska won't make it 'white'.”

“Fine, you do that, and you tell them that at the very first opportunity, I'm coming down there and killing all of them. Mass murder. And after they're all dead, I'm going to kick the bodies around, dance on top of them, and sing a happy song. No jury will convict me.”

“[...] I’ll fucking kill them all. Every single one of them.” Corrado’s voice rang out beside them. “Too late. They’re all already dead.” Carmine glared at his uncle. “Well, we’ll bring those motherfuckers back to life then.”