Life makes fools of all of us sooner or later. But keep your sense of humor and you’ll at least be able to take your humiliations with some measure of grace. In the end, you know, its our own expectations that crush us.
Life makes fools of us all sooner or later. But keep your sense of humor and you’ll at least be able to take your humiliations with some measure of grace. In the end, you know, it’s our own expectations that crush us.” — from Skippy Dies
When you think about it, the Big Bang’s a big like school, isn’t
Their faith in him is at once touching and alarming — their trust that they are safe simply because he’s with them, as if an adult presence warded of all possible threat, emanated an unbreachable forcefield.
Never trust an Italian. The Nazis did that, and look where it got them.
I decided I would teach Mrs. P. a lesson by cooking my own meal.
I believe his lies, so he believes mine.’ She turns and looks at me straight on. ‘That’s how it goes at the end of love.
People don’t want the truth,’ he says, waving a hand at the streets around us. ‘They want better-quality lies. High definition lies on fifty-inch screens.
The achievement of maturity, psychologically speaking, might be said to be the realization and acceptance that we simply cannot live independently from the world, and so we must live within it, with whatever compromises that might entail.
It used to be the smartest people didn’t always want to be the richest people.
You always were such a worrier. It was as if you thought your worrying was all that held the world together, and if you stopped for a split second the whole thing would just fly apart.
If you do it in the bookies, it’s a bet. . . . If you pay some 23-year-old in an Armani suit two hundred grand to go to the window for you, it’s a derivative.
Life makes fools of us all sooner or later. But keep your sense of humor and you’ll at least be able to take your humiliations with some measure of grace. In the end, it’s our own expectations that crush us.
I don’t see Number Four though—oh.” Number Four, wearing an unflattering chartreuse jacket, was sitting alone on the chewed-up grass, despondently licking his testicles. “Hmm, I don’t know, Bel . .
I do not think my life would make a very interesting book,’ I say. ‘I feel I can speak with a certain amount of authority here.