Craig Lancaster Quotes

I tried eHarmony, because I liked the white hair and glasses of that guy on the commercials, and his manner was gentle, but eHarmony told me that the system and it's twenty nine levels of compatibility couldn't find anyone for me.
That hurt my feelings.

The complaint lies with me, not with you. I never could find a way to make you proud of me, and at some point, I think I stopped trying. When you were here, I blamed you for that. I think now, the failure is mine ... It occurs to me that death is a funny thing - not funny in a laughter sort of way, but in a twisty sort of way. It's the people who are left behind who have to grapple with the regret. The one who is gone is just gone. Wherever you are ... I hope you have regret about what happened yesterday.

I hope you do exist. Even though hope is as intangible as belief, I am not hostile to it.

Dinner is leftover spaghetti, with meat sauce, warmed up in the microwave. I eat spaghetti nine times a week, every week, and it is my favorite food. And yet, tonight, I wonder if I'm in a rut.

Love is bullshit and weird and stupid, but shit, man, if you have love, everybody should leave you alone and let you keep it for as long as you can.

That's the problem with belief: If you rely on it too heavily, you have a lot of picking up to do after you find out you were wrong.

When we say nasty things about other people, we're really criticizing something in them that we don't like in ourselves.

For everything I wished were different about the old man, I found comfort in just as many things that never changed.

The only way to bury the past is to build tomorrow on top of it.

We never have that kind of fun now. Thinking of that made me sad. I hope we can have fun again sometime. I found out that I still know how. Maybe you still know how too.

There's a saying about ranch women. When they're 30, they look 50. When they're 80, they look 50.

For a long while, Norby had harbored a theory that places acted like dry-cell batteries, storing remnants of the lives of everyone who had ever passed through them.

I cleared the air again. "Oh, I'm plenty stupid. But not on this. And I'm not cruel. Don't let him fight again. Hell, you shouldn't have let him fight tonight. I'm all for that. But it's not going to kill you to let him go with the knowledge that nobody ever knocked him out cold. Besides, it isn't me you have to convince anyway." Squeaky ran the gym, ran the Tuesday night fights, but his daddy, Frank, was the boss. He knew this sure as I did.

I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm not owed any of that. The opportunities were there, and I did not take them. I find it difficult to live with this sometimes.

Ernest Hemingway talked about how writing is opening up a vein and bleeding onto the page. You prepared to do that?

You can make yourself crazy, refiguring it all after the fact. You did what you thought was best at the time. You helped a friend. That's what matters.

Viewed in abstractions, love is the same thing for everybody. It thrills the same way, and devastates with bloodless efficiency.

Crying comes from many sources and has many causes: anger, frustration, sadness, lack of sleep. I think I am suffering from all four, and I think that is why I have been crying.

I think a high grammar standard may be a losing fight on the Internet.

This much, too: never again will we keep our hearts waiting.

I prefer facts, but sometimes sense is all you have to go on.

hope is as intangible as belief,

I'm going home, but there's nothing for me there. I am adrift. I hate that word.

I have not seen a man over there, and so I wonder whether my neighbor has a husband or her boy has a father. I would be sad to think that he doesn't, but having a father isn't necessarily a good thing. I have one, and while he did buy this house for me to live in, he also has his lawyer send me a lot of letters and may not have given any thought to radiant floor heating.

She's aggressive and grabs my wiener, though, I may have to come up with another plan.