When I was Downtown, I learned a lot about making threats. Make them big. Make them outrageous. You’re never going to kick someone’s ass. You’re going to pull out their tongue and pour liquid nitrogen down their throat, chip out their guts with an ice pick, slide in a pane of glass, and turn them into an aquarium.

None of the palaces in Hell come close to Lucifer’s in size or beauty. Lucifer lives at the top of a literal ivory tower, miles high. You can’t even see the top from the ground. The joke is that he built it that high so he can lean out the window and pound on Heaven’s floor with a broom handle when he wants them to turn down the choir.

We must always look after our friends, even when they are foolish. Especially when they are foolish.

Carlos comes back with our drinks. “What should we drink to?” “To love,” says Brigitte. “To the few loyal customers I have left,” says Carlos. I have to think for a minute. “To the dead. Let’s think of them always, but not join them too soon.” Everyone in the bar drinks to that.

You were a prick and a crook, but no one deserves to go out the way you went. I hope it was over quick and that you tasted like ass all the way down. Amen.

It’s like God left his lunch in the microwave and you get to finish it.

Maybe home isn’t the place you love, just the place you know best.

Kids need their minds blown every now and then. It’ll keep them from thinking that managing a McDonald’s is the most they can hope for.

Revenge is never what you think it’s going to be. There’s no pleasure and glory, and when it’s done your grief remains. Once a man does the things you’re talking about, he will never be the same, and he can never go back to who he was before. Worst of all, no matter how many enemies you kill, you are never satisfied. There is always one more who deserves it. When it becomes too easy to kill, it never ends.

The place looks like where David Lynch would meet Beaver Cleaver’s mom for secret afternoons of bondage and milkshakes.