If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him wrong,For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his home along.And the only reason a road is good, as every wanderer knows,Is just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which it goes.

One should never give up on hope. Unless that's the name of the girl who cheated on you in which case, yeah, give her up.

One day, scientists will overtake LIGHT and crash into the DARKNESS.

A sturdy hold, but I think there's something up with the material.

I like big books and I cannot lie.You other readers can’t denyThat when a kid walks in with The Name of the WindLike a hardbound brick of win.Story bling.Wanna swipe that thingCause you see that boy is speedingRight through the book he’s reading.I’m hooked and I can’t stop pleading.Wanna curl up with that for ages,All thousand pages.Reviewers tried to warn me.But with that plot you hookedMe like Bradley.Ooh, crack that fat spine.You know I wanna make you mine.This book is stella ’cause it ain’t some quick novella.

I’ve never quite understood why the knuckleheads of the planet so outnumber the rest of us.

Today I feel like I did tomorrow.

Knowledge may be power, but half of what I know I wish I could forget.

I am always doing what I thought I couldn't do, because I might learn something. Henri Marcel - Marriage a Journey and A Dog

If you ordered up a whore here, you'd probably get a theater major doing Joan Crawford as Sadie Thompson. I wonder what would happen if I ordered up a Hershey bar?" His eyes lit up for a moment. "I wonder what would happen if I ordered up a whore and a Hershey bar?

A stitch in time saves uncontrollable blood loss

I think the reason I choose the comic approach so often is because it's harder, therefore affording me the opportunity to show off.

This,” Alaric explained to Sarah in what he thought was a kindly voice, “isn’t love you’re feeling. Only dopamine. Because Felix isn’t like anyone else you know. Being a creature of the night, he’s new and exciting and activates a neurotransmitter in your brain that releases feelings of euphoria when you’re around him…especially because you know you can never actually be together, and he seems complicated, and perhaps even sensitive and vulnerable at times. But I can assure you: he’s anything but.”“How dare you?” Sarah demanded hotly. “It isn’t dopa…whatever! It’s love! Love!

Answering the question 'How would you like to smell?' by saying 'I'd rather I didn't' is also no longer acceptable. It's not playing the game. Men are expected to put some cash into the cosmetic pot too - it's seen as almost un-feminist not to. What a uniquely capitalist response to that gender inequality: women have been forced by convention for generations - millennia - to spend money on expensive clothes and agonising shoes, to daub themselves with reality-concealing slap, to smell expensively inhuman, to self-mutilate in pursuit of eternal youth; and this, quite rightly, has come to be deemed unfair. But how do we end this hell? We make men do it too. Well done everyone.

If you drink anymore, you're going to be positively flammable.

Comedy is a distortion of what is happening, and there will always be something happening.

When people get into their 30s plus "boyfriend" sounds weird...if you really think about it. Instead, I think we should universally start using the term "manfriend" or "snookie bookie cuddles pie".

I just looked at the calendar and realized- my days are numbered

Time heals all wounds. Unless they're infected. Like gangrene. That shit'll kill you.

I took a couple steps away from him and stopped in front of a framed colored poster of Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable from the movie Gone with the Wind. I studied the pair, Gable with his mysterious mustache and Leigh in her red ball gown. I’d become a fan of the classic, partially because of my mother’s suggestion that I looked a lot like a younger Vivien Leigh, with my dark wavy hair and sea green eyes. And as usual, I’d believed her for a little while.

I got home a little after seven, but didn’t feel hungry. Instead, I crawled into my pajamas and pulled out my Jimmy Stewart movie It’s a Wonderful Life. I fixed myself a cup of herbal tea and settled in for the night. Normally, I’d save such a classic movie for the holidays, when I tended to feel sorry for myself, but today’s need felt urgent. If Jimmy was able to accept that he had a wonderful life, maybe I could, too.

My mother had tried to fool me into thinking I was a natural beauty, and I’d believed her for a little while, that is, until I moved to the land of beautiful people.

My life was full of drama, with the highs and lows of Tyler’s daily mood swings and my private innuendos with Vandenberg. There’d never been a movie made that could permanently shift my mood away from my disappointment with myself.

I can fly around the world in one night. I can wink and go up a chimney in a split second. I can be in 500 shopping malls on the same weekend. I can even fit enough gifts for the entire world into one tiny sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer, but I CANNOT FIX THIS CONFOUNDED COMPUTER!

I like to think I'm not stupid often, tonight proves that when I am, I do it in a big way.

You still are? There go my plans! And the suit I had bought to attend your funeral. Well, well. Anyway, do call me up when you an't.

Author is the prisoner of his thoughts .

The table was covered with food like roast chicken, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, roast turkey, roast liquorice and, the centrepiece, a roasted knight.

Rivera rubbed his temples. "Satan told you to do it?" he said wearily."No.""Elvis?""I told you, it's supernatural.

I love you all - if you are not people!

So, your god is the only god? Okay, but then, so is my dog.