What he carried with him, all he carried with him, was a lack, something like a lack of air, of proper behavior in his lungs, a difficulty that he supposed would go on forever.

The sun in the west was a drop of burning gold that slid nearer and nearer the sill of the world. All at once they were aware of the evening as the end of light and warmth.

Now I can see how that can happen. You can fall in love with anybody — a fool, a criminal, a nothing. There are no good rules.

I don&#39;t stop eating when I&#39;m full. The meal isn&#39;t over when I&#39;m full. It&#39;s over when I hate myself.

Written By Louis C. K.

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