“Maybe he stomped on my vagina and I’m pissed about it.” Stella Murphy”

“I’ve got this perception of Beethoven where he’s just, like, really pissed all the time. Yeah, ol’ Ludwig, he had a lot to pound on the piano bitterly about. I’m Germannnn! I’m deaffff! I’m bliiiind! My name is Ludwigggg! Was he blind? I’m pretty sure. Or, wait, maybe that was Helen Keller. Was he even German? Was she German? Is Ludwig a name? I’m starting to worry I’m just making shit up.”

“Can you tell by where my eyes are looking what I’m thinking? Hint: I’m staring directly at your vagina.”

“My fear of camping: I’m convinced bugs will crawl up my vagina and lay eggs. Isn’t everyone?”

“I was worried about my own vagina. It needed a context of other vaginas-- a community, a culture of vaginas. There's so much darkness and secrecy surrounding them-- like the Bermunda Triangle.”

“...my electric-blue-suitmate was an uninhibited vagina about town.”