Quotes About Chuck

66 books by 40 authors and we now find that it (the Bible) is an integrated message system from outside our time domain.

Just for the record, the weather today is partly suspicious with chances of betrayal.

Let me be the ring leader in your guilt gang-bang.

Just for the record, the weather today is increasing turmoil with a possible physical and emotional breakdown.

Some mythological fat asswipe drives our national economy.

It is a hundred-year-old witch book, bound in human skin and probably written in ancient cum...YOU lick it!

At first, the new owner pretends he never looked at the living room floor.

Completely and totally, permanently and without hope, forever and ever I love Brandy Alexander. And that's enough.

The bad news is we don't have any con­trol. The good news is you can't make any mis­takes.

Go figure, but Texans seem to be a lot more comfortable around disastrous house fires than they are around anal sex.

Oh, I am just that fabulous. So sex furniture.

Give me pity. Flash. Give me empathy. Flash.

Give me pity. Flash. Give me another chance. Flash.

Not to belabor the point, but counterfeit luxury goods truly represent a false economy.

The nouvelle cuisine of anarchy. Barium nitrate in a sauce of sulfur and garnished with charcoal. That's your basic gunpowder. Bon appetit.

Ah, Houellebecq. I've only read him in English translations so I'm sure I'm not getting the full greatness of his work, but golly, he writes better sex scenes than anyone else alive.

trichloroethane [...] All my extensive testing has shown this to be the best treatment for a dangerous excess of human knowledge

So, Marla, how do you like them apples?

shoulder. They weigh that much. Tyler's a banquet waiter

look right at me the way no eyes have all summer. "Your perception is all fucked up," Brandy says. "All you can talk about is trash that's already happened.

To call this a social experiment was incorrect. It would never be allowed to fail.

What caught Jamal's eye was a signed sepia-tone photograph of Emma Goldman mounted on a small bejeweled easel.

Not it. Her. Give the Falcon some respect, kid.

Thankfully, it's she who spoke. Not the skeleton. Because … gross.