You're only as good as your fitness function.

Live by the spoon, die by the spoon.

The dead laugh at us, for they have nothing left to fear.

I'm a selective signal amplifier.

I was killing time at the preschool when this dame looms up, naptime written in her eyes. I said, "Listen lady, hold your horses!"

It's not hypocrisy when I'm the one doing it.

In the evenings I enjoy strolling the neighborhood from the comfort of my couch, using my remote-controlled robot.

The problem with complete anarchy is that it's unenforceable; people like to organize, and then what're you gonna do?

On my 18th birthday, my parents gave me a freezer-full of meals I'd rejected throughout my childhood; a time capsule of leftovers.

Gravity -- there's a reason why it's a classic.

She'd clearly put a lot of effort into being who she'd become, but it still wasn't clear if it had been worth it.

Even if it's true, how does it serve you to think that way?

It's been years since that one off-handed comment, but even now, devoted fans keep sending him squid dolls.

I like my sophistication with a dash of naivete.

At samurai preschool, you're encouraged to run with sharp objects.

As the killer whale erupted from the toilet bowl and pressed him against the ceiling of his own bathroom, John could only imagine that the whale was just as startled as he was.

She wasn't dead yet, but already the maggots were circling like vultures.

Nothing's perfect, so you pick the things whose flaws you can live with.

He found a rotting peach and kept it in a saucer on his desk. I never knew how to behave around it.

I shaved intricate patterns into my beard to maintain the illusion of a man with obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

She left a trail of love zombies in her wake.

Just kidding.

Often he had a hard time telling the difference between innovative business practices and plain old antisocial behavior.

We are, like, synapses in the mind of culture.

Pick something true about the world, invent a character that doesn't believe it, and spend your story convincing them.

The subway car, filled with historical figures from every era, sped madly through the tunnels, racing toward the future.

His piercings were so large and so plentiful, his entire body seemed like a wicker-work of flesh, bone and sinew.

Say what you like, but it had lovely lichens.

Little old ladies in nightgowns watching the world from their top-floor balconies.

What is creation, but the debris of daydreams?