“Wow. You look…really nice today. Did you do something different?” Only a thirty-four-year-old virgin, I thought.”

“That's what happens when you're thirty-seven years old: you do the things you always did but the result is somehow different.”

“Do you have a leather jacket? One for a ten-year-old boy?" I asked the man selling leather jackets and gloves in Covent Garden, London. "Yes, I have one right here!" And the man dug out a fine leather jacket that looked styled and tailored for a young boy. "I'm buying this for my son" I said to him. "I love this jacket, it's perfect, I think I will just come back for it tomorrow, though! I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" And the man reached his arms above his head, and said with a big smile upon his face "You only have one life to live! What is the difference if you do something today, or if you do it tomorrow?" I thought about the man's words. And I bought the jacket. He was right, there is no difference, really, between doing something today and doing something tomorrow, when you only have one life to live! Afterall, tomorrow may never come! All you really have is today!”

“Would you do something for me? Please? Would you just picture your life for me? Thirty years from now, forty years from now? What's it look like? If it's with that guy, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I could do it again, if I thought it's what you really wanted.”

“George: [On the 'Two Virgins' cover]'What I thought of the sleeve then was the same as I think now: it's just two not-very-nice-looking bodies, two flabby bodies naked. It's harmless, really - different strokes for different folks.”

“You called me at four thirty-four....I hate four thirty-four. I think four thirty-four should be banned and replaced with something more reasonable, like, say, nine twelve.”