Erma Bombeck Quotes

I'm a creative consultant, whatever that means.

Ambiguity — the Devil's volleyball.

The Self has turned out to mean so many things, to mean them so ambiguously, and to be so wavering in its application, that we do not feel encouraged.

I used to think that when I got older, the world would make so much more sense. But you know what? The older I get, the more confusing it is to me. The more complicated it is. Harder. You’d think we’d be getting better at it. But there’s just more and more chaos. The pieces—they’re everywhere. And nobody knows what to do about it. I find myself grasping, Nick. You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it’s right, but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? I want to believe in that.

What I mean is, I don't know what I mean.

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

Might as Well Laugh ...remember ...when ...Life ...made ...sense

Let me try once more," Milo said in an effort to explain. "In other words--" "You mean you have other words?" cried the bird happily. "Well, by all means, use them. You're certainly not doing very well with the ones you have now.

We imagine what this country is, but quite clearly, this country is a mystery. I mean, one of the reasons I did the election ads is, I thought I could learn something. Like, what the hell is going on? I think anybody - particularly a person of leftist persuasion such as myself - who stops and thinks even for a moment, realizes that something strange is going on and we don't quite get it.

I don't know. I've never been on second before.

I think of how and why and what happened and the thoughts come easily, but the answers don't.

I don’t know what it means to live.

Slight changes simply make a blur.

I find myself having these conversations where I go...You know, the guy, in that place. The guy in the place with the thing, you know. And it becomes this game of charades. And then finally, we realize that I mean the Pope.

One of the curious effects of a bad hangover is that you think you're wrong whether you are or not. Not wrong in particulars, but wrong in general, wrong about everything.

Motto of the U.S. airline industry - "We're Hoping to Have a Motto Announcement in About an Hour."

Took me a while to get to the point today, but that is because I did not know what the point was when I started.

I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everyone was, especially me.

Is that clear?" said Borcht "as clear as pea soup" I said

Please don't ask me what the score is. I'm not even sure what the game is.

Those who cannot tell what they desire or expect, still sigh and struggle with indefinite thoughts and vast wishes.

I guess I don't really know what I want to do, either. Sometimes I feel like a shook-up bottle of soda. Like, I have all this passion that wants to explode, but I don't know where to aim it yet.

She was standing in the airport of Copenhagen, staring at a doorway, trying to figure out if it was (a) a bathroom and (b) what kind of bathroom it was. The door merely said H. Was she an H? Was H "hers"? It could just as easily be "his". Or "Helicopter Room: Not a Bathroom at All

And what exactly is a dream and what exactly is a joke?