You want a love story too? There's none to be had.
Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak. Probably so we can think twice.
There is not enough time to do all the nothing we want to do.
Calvin: Look, a dead bird! Hobbes: It must've hit a window. Calvin: Isn't it beautiful? It's so delicate. Sighhh. . . once it's too late, you appreciate what a miracle life is. You realize that nature is ruthless and our existence is very fragile, temporary, and precious. But to go on with your daily affairs, you can't really think about that. . . which is probably why everyone takes the world for granted and why we act so thoughtlessly. It's very confusing. I suppose it will all make sense when we grow up. Hobbes: No doubt.
What's the point of wearing your favorite rocket ship underpants if nobody ever asks to see 'em?
We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are.
I asked mom if I was a gifted child. She said they certainly wouldn't have paid for me.
I am afraid of dying-but being dead, oh yes, that to me is often an appealing prospect.
When I look back over my novels what I find is that when I think I'm finished with a theme, I'm generally not. And usually themes will recur from novel to novel in odd, new guises.
The enemy hates the ego, which the seeker wants to kill; thus, like the anvil to the goldsmith, he is actually a friend.
I hear the mournful wail of millions!