Chuck Palahniuk

That's what I love about fire, how it would kill me as quick as anybody else. How it can't know I'm its mother. It's so beautiful and powerful and beyond feeling anything for anybody, that's what I love about fire.

Him yelling, Give me lust, baby.

Almost all the time, you tell yourself you're loving somebody when you're just using them.

This makeover would make piercings and tattoos and brandings look so lame, all those little fashion revolts so safe that they themselves only became fashionable. Those little paper tiger attempts to reject looking good that only end up reinforcing it.

When you go out with a drunk, you'll notice how a drunk fills your glass so he can empty his own. As long as you're drinking, drinking is okay. Two's company. Drinking is fun. If there's a bottle, even if your glass isn't empty, he'll pour a little in your glass before he fills his own.

Just remember, the same spectacular Vogue magazine, remember that no matter how close

"I'm an invisible monster, and I'm incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse."

Don't you think that somehow television makes us God?

Don't expect this to be the kind of story that goes: and then, and then, and then.

All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.

Nobody's all-the-way dead yet, but let's just say the clock is ticking.

You know how you look at ugly hunchback girls, and they are so lucky. Nobody drags them out at night so they can't finish their doctorate thesis papers. They don't get yelled at by fashion photographers if they get infected ingrown bikini hairs. You look at burn victims and think how much time they save not looking in mirrors to check their skin for sun damage.