“I sit and talk to God, and he just laughs at my plans.”

“Man makes plans… and God laughs.”

“You've been avoiding me," he said, talking to the sandwich.

I laughed. He looked over at me. "Sorry. I just realized that you talk to a lot of inanimate objects.”

“If you want to see God laugh, make a plan.”

“Is that what he said? Is that what he said? He can talk! No, it’s true. I’m terrible. Do you know what? I’ve got quite an easy job. I’ve just got to look at people, say lines and not laugh. And two of those I do okay-ish. But basically I’m just shit at quite an ordinary job, namely not laughing. It’s not that hard not to laugh. The guy who sold me my travel card, he didn’t wet himself laughing. You just don’t do it.”

“How to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.”

“He seems to me to be equal to a god, he, if it may be, seems to surpass the very gods, who sitting opposite thee again and again gazes at thee and hears thee sweetly laughing.”
Ille mi par esse Deo videtur, ille, si fas est, superare Divos, qui sedens adversus identidem te spectat et audit dulce ridentem.

“I just remember sitting in my trailer hysterically crying from the embarrassment I felt about myself, my body - and that no one could talk to me directly.”

“If you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.”

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”