“Now tell me something. What’s your word for husband?”
“Hellren, I suppose. The short version is just hell.”
She laughed softly. “Go figure.”

“Now what in hell am I going to tell this boy Schaefer's parents? That a substitute nurse assassinated him because she couldn't tell the doctors from the patients on the floor?”

“She wants to be polite and not hurt your feelings, so she's not going to laugh right now. But inside, inside she's laughing.”

“How was I supposed to know?
She was slowly letting go?
If I was puttin her through her hell,
Hell I couldn't tell.She could've given me a sign,
Could've opened up my eyes.
How was I supposed to see?
She never cried in front of me.”

“I sometimes wonder if it is just me, or if there are other women who figure out where they are supposed to be by going nowhere.”

“[having been recognized by a woman in a diner]
She sits down across the table from me, and didn't say "Hi, hello, my name is…." She just said "this is what I'm going to tell my husband when he gets home from work today. I'm going to tell him that I had lunch with Jeff Foxworthy."”

“If your going to look back on something and laugh about it, you might as well laugh about it now.”

“You want the short version. Okay, then: shit happens. Does that answer all your question? Thought not. Now, if you shut your face and let me tell this my way, we might actually get somewhere. Thank you.”

“Now I just don't know who to tell to go to hell
Who put the old devil in the distorted angel?”

“To me, my approach is the most sensible. You're a comic. Therefore you want to get laughs. How do you get the most laughs in an hour? Tell short jokes. And don't say boom boom at the end. Just let the audience laugh then tell another joke. It's the shortest route to where you want to go.”