Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game. Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle.
If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.
Tell people there’s an invisible man in the sky who created the universe, and the vast majority will believe you. Tell them the paint is wet, and they have to touch it to be sure.
Cancer research is a growth industry.
No, there’s no God, but there might be some sort of an organizing intelligence, and I think to understand it is way beyond our ability. It’s certainly not a judgmental entity. It’s certainly not paternalistic and all these qualities that have been attributed to God.
There are ten thousand people in the United States in a persistent vegetative state. Just enough to start a small town. Think of them as veggie-burghers.
If no one knows when a person is going to die, how can we say he died prematurely?
A cat will blink when struck with a hammer.
I love and treasure individuals as I meet them, I loath and despise the groups they identify or belong to.
Baseball is the only major sport that appears backwards in a mirror.
I used to be Irish Catholic. Now I’m an American – you know, you grow.
You can’t fight City Hall, but you can goddamn sure blow it up.
You’re all going to die. I hate to remind you, but it is on your schedule. It probably won’t happen when you’d like; generally, it’s an inconvenience.
Why do they bother with a suicide watch when someone is on death row? “Keep an eye on this guy. We’re gonna kill him, and we don’t want him to hurt himself.”
I never worry that all hell will break loose. My concern is that only part of hell will break loose and be much harder to detect.
Eventually, alas, I realized the main purpose of buying cocaine is to run out of it.
As you swim the river of live, do the breast stroke. It helps to clear the turds from your path.
I had no shoes, and I felt sorry for myself until I met a man who had no feet. I took his shoes. Now I feel better.
Soft rock music isn’t rock, and it ain’t music. It’s just soft. Reminds me of something my third-grade teacher said to us. She said, “You show me a tropical fruit and I’ll show you a cocksucker from Guatemala.”
No one knows what’s next, but everybody does it.
As a matter of principle, I never attend the first annual anything.