“Next time I want to do something nice, slap me.”

“My niceness has a very low threshold and that little girl just sucked it dry, so don’t push me, Olympain. I don’t want so much as a single Atlantean stone overturned. Guard it with your life because the next time I come here, that’s the price I’m going to demand for your incompetence. (ZT)Nice talking to you, ZT. I so look forward to your visits. Next time we’ll do pastries, ‘kay? (Kat)”

“BE QUIET!!...What do you want...? I was in the middle of saying something nice...”

“I have a "carpe diem" mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet. (Oct. 28th is officially Slap A Dead Poet Day in our Family now)”

“Every time I hear writers talk about ‘the muse,’ I just want to bitch-slap them. It’s a job. Do your job.”

“We shall never meet, but there is something I want you to know. My time is not the same as your time. Our times are not the same. And do you know what that means? That means that time does not exist. Do you want me to repeat that? There is no time. There is a life and a death. There are people and animals. Our thoughts exist. And the world. The universe, too. But there is no time. You might as well take it easy. Do you feel better now? I feel better. This is going to work out. Have a nice day.”