“When you know something’s wrong, but you don’t know exactly what it is, the air around you changes.”

“Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.”

“If you don’t know exactly where you’re going, how will you know when you get there?”

“The next suitable person you’re in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, “What’s wrong?” You say it in a concerned way. He’ll say, “What do you mean?” You say, “Something’s wrong. I can tell. What is it?” And he’ll look stunned and say, “How did you know?” He doesn’t realize something’s always wrong, with everybody. Often more than one thing. He doesn’t know everybody’s always going around all the time with something wrong and believing they’re exerting great willpower and control to keep other people, for whom they think nothing’s ever wrong, from seeing it.”

“"I don't know exactly what's wrong with you, but I bet it's hard to pronounce when you're drunk."”

“How can you know what is missing if you’ve never met it? You must know of something’s existence before you can notice its absence. ”