A distinguished man should be as particular about his last words as he is about his last breath. He should write them out on a slip of paper and take the judgment of his friends on them. He should never leave such a thing to the last hour of his life, and trust to an intellectual spurt at the last moment to enable him to say something smart with his latest gasp and launch into eternity with grandeur.
I don't think i'm a witty person. To me, a witty person is a funny person who is also a smart person. My friend david rakoff, who died a few years ago, he was a witty person. Fran lebowitz is a witty person. I don't think there are that many witty people around, so you tend to notice them when they do come around. I don't consider myself to be that.
You, have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit. And you, have that whole blonde cool and collected perfect smart thing going on. You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with. You, are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.
That's smart. once sonya's able to talk, we'll need to move." he smiled. "sydney's turning into a battle mastermind." "hey, she's not in charge here," i teased. "she's just a soldier." "right." he lightly brushed his fingers against my cheek. "sorry, captain." "general," i corrected, catching my breath at that brief touch.
When did you get so smart?" he tapped his forehead. "brain transplant. they put in a whale's. i'm passing all my classes with my eyes closed now, but i just can't get over this craving for krill." he shrugged. "and i feel sorry for the whale that got my brain. probably swimming around florida now trying to catch glimpses of girls in bikinis.