I'm a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.

I don't know what good it is to know so much and be smart as whips and all if it doesn't make you happy.

And I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.

Where there's smoke, there's usually strawberry Jello.

I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life.

To you everything thats happening in the world appears phony, to be something other than what it really is, right?