Call me Ishmael.

Call me Maybe.

Don't call me late for dinner.

I've always hated whales.

When I saw her walk off the train, she looked like a point of light piercing the gray, smoky sky.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

The year was 1984, and I had to pick up doughnuts for the general.

I had never realized it before, but I really needed to start taking better care of my skin.

When I looked at her, I was struck by how much makeup she wore for such an old woman.

I met Anna at Starbucks, and she was pissed.

She had an otherworldly beauty that struck me as almost alien.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

When our paths crossed, we were each startled at the similarity of our lives.

This is the saddest story I have ever heard.

The is the most pathetic story I have ever written.

We met at a spa, and I thought them the most obnoxious people I had ever met.

I don't do it for the money

Once I brushed up against Melania's brass covfefe, and she demanded that I apologize forthwith.

I actually do it for the money.

A great deal is like a beautiful woman.

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.

Man, Santiago loved him some FISH!

His fingers ached so much that he was beginning to lose the sense that he had them attached to his body at all.

Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

I was stunned...Lord Voldemort looked just like my aunt Elizabeth without makeup.

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive.”

I never understood the British fascination with tomato as a breakfast food.

I got new shoes.

I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull; He got a good Estate by Merchandise, and leaving off his Trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my Mother, whose Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family in that Country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now called, nay we call our selves, and write our Name Crusoe, and so my Companions always call'd me.

Crusoe's the name, and Island life is my game.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, I smell the blood of an Englishman.

One can imagine, but will never really know, the stench of sea and sweat that lay upon this solitary man.

She smelled like money.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

Jay Gatsby liked french fries...yes, he liked them a great deal.

I was nothing if not a coward.

She died that evening, fully corseted, perfumed, powdered, rouged, and wearing an auburn wig made from horse hair. She awoke the next morning - 20 years later - and She was a He.

He—for there could be no doubt of his sex, though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it—was in the act of slicing at the head of a Moor which swung from the rafters.

His face was his enchantment, he marveled at the delicate beauty it still held, and held no regret for his lost life as the Queen.

The days of eating Ding Dongs with zero guilt were over...it was time to become a chick.

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York.

When I was between my Sophomore and Junior year at Brown, I took a job at the UN in New York.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but in my case, absence destroyed any remaining feeling I had for Academia.

Donald looked at me with such seething contempt...he was the first man I ever met who truly, and completely, hated women.

I grew up in a zoo, more specifically a poorly funded zoo outside of Calcutta.

I'll tell you something you didn't know - the Liger really exists.

I am not fond of the sea, which was a real bummer considering what was about to happen.

My suffering left me sad and gloomy.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

It was a time with a whole bunch of dichotomies.

Where is my Absinthe?!

London, in the sultry summer of 1847, smelled like a dead rat's festering backside.

You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, but that ain't no matter.

Proper grammar ain't no goal for a real man.

I woke up on the bank, and Tom was standing over me, laughing hysterically.

"Heya, ya left yo' fishin' pole down by the crick", he told me.

My mother was distant, my father cruel, nobody noticed my fistula, and it was a muggy June - there, do I have your attention now?

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

I know most stories start of with a lot of lousy details, but I'll save that for later.

This isn't going to be about my carefree childhood, or my crappy childhood, or really any kind of childhood at all because I hate that kind of book if you really want to know.

There were no more fire alarms.

It was a pleasure to burn.

Hot enough for ya?

It was a dark and stormy night...nah, it wasn't really.

Whoever said cocaine and rum don't mix was definitely high on meth.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.

She always looked smarter when I was high.

This book is about the things I recall, so I have no explanation for why it is so damned long.