Rendang Kangkung

Mother, I have so many secrets.

Participation in fat-shaming is not a requirement of being Asian.

That’s not a restroom. It’s a horror show.

Technically, it’s a restroom and a horror show.

If only Mr. Jobson had the same yeoman attitude to work. He’s been pecking at the idiots oblong all day.

Dad, sports metaphors are a blight on American discourse!

These books are all blank.

Best kind. Y’can write anything in them. Write your dreams or poems, secrets or recipes.

I should warn you, getting what you want and being happy are two quite different things.

I wish I met a slightly more adventurous American.

Well, I am fairly wild in my aversion to risk.

I must assume then that you have not seen much art… but the hyperbole of your American optimism is charming.

You’re not some kind of pervert, are you?

I am the very best kind of pervert. In the words of the immortal Quentin himself, I am one of the stately homos of old England.

I remember my first year at SF Pride thinking that the asexual group had the best signs.

You say what I want or I take the ear. Ear today, gone tomorrow, Hank.

Tea isn’t gonna fix this, Lou!

Tell me about your mother.

— Cthulhu Tales: Delirium Omnibus. In the π of the Beholder.

Bartlett and July have chosen to walk their unending paths together, hand in hand until the sun and the stars fall from the sky.

They do not do this lightly. They do so with caution. With respect. But not with fear, or with doubt, in their hearts.

They do this not because they fear the path alone, but because... for them, there was no path until they found one another.

—Redneck, Vol 3: Longhorns

It’s taken me a long time to wrap my head around that ... You loved me so much you wouldn’t let me die. And that... That’s what was so scary about it.

—Redneck, Vol 3: Longhorns