“It's total bullshit," he said. "The whole thing. Eighty percent survival rate and he's in the twenty percent? Bullshit. He was such a bright kid. It's bullshit. I hate it. But it was sure a privilege to love him, huh?”
“Everything he did was at least partial and often total bullshit” (402).”
“You do realize fairytales are bullshit,” he said.”
“Love is bullshit. Emotion is bullshit.”
“Anybody's true nature is bullshit. There is no human soul. Emotion is bullshit. Love is bullshit.”
“People who read me seem to be divided into four groups: twenty-five percent like me for the right reasons; twenty-five percent like me for the wrong reasons; twenty-five percent hate me for the wrong reasons; twenty-five percent hate me for the right reasons. It's that last twenty-five percent that worries me.”