“...definitely dramadies [are out], too. To me, if the writer can’t make up his mind if he’s doing drama or comedy, then he should switch to making paper airplanes until he know what he wants.”

“And he was murdered?"..."Stabbed"..."And this has something to do with the strange drugs?"...Personally, I'd never heard of a package insert that listed "fatal stabbing injuries" under a drug's side effects.”

“The most popular game is Cholesterol Canasta, where the plague patients, vivisection victims, and ambulant biohazard bags try to one-up each other with their hellish blood panels and urine tests. For a long time, the undisputed winner was a two-hundred-and-fifty-kilo diabetic with renal insufficiency, fatty liver disease, and food poisoning. The only infection he didn’t have was HIV..”

“I think museums are dead boring. I don't like most of the pictures on their walls. With modern pieces you never know if it's a sandwich on the floor half-eaten by some animals, a forgotten hors d'oeuvre -- or Art Some great artist paints shit pictures that I could've surpassed in nursery school and then hangs them upside down on the wall. I mean, what about that involves Art?”

“It was time for her to finally get that all of that sanctimonious drivel is just the opiate of the masses. Ha, even I was educated enough to know that quote. From Gandhi.”

“Marlene’s praise went down like a cold beer after a greasy burger. She could sense this. “You’re not at all as bad as you pretend,” she said. Careful... Now she was talking crap, that much was clear. I needed to change the topic.”

“To the untrained eye ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference! The ego-climber is like an instrument that’s out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He’s likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he’s tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail trying to see what’s ahead even when he knows what’s ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He’s here but he’s not here. He rejects the here, he’s unhappy with it, wants to be farther up the trail but when he gets there will be just as unhappy because then *it* will be “here”. What he’s looking for, what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn’t want that because it *is* all around him. Every step’s an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goal to be external and distant.”