392 Quotes by Jenny Lawson

Eating a peach is like eating a newborn baby’s head. In that it’s all soft and fuzzy. Not that peaches taste like babies. I don’t eat babies. Or peaches, actually. Because they remind me of eating babies. Vicious circle, really.

I walked back into the studio pretending to be someone who was amazing at reading her own story. I finished an entire paragraph without interruption. Then I looked up and the producer stared at me and said, “I don’t know what you just did, but keep doing it.” And I said, “I just did a lot of cocaine,” and she looked a bit aghast and so I said, “No, I’m just kidding. I just got some really good advice from a friend.

Everyone gets caught accidentally sneaking weird stuff through security sometimes though.

Those times are the hardest. When you can see yourself confined to your bed because you have no strength or will to leave, and then you find yourself yelling at someone you love because they want to help but they can’t. When you wake up in a gutter after trying to drink or smoke or dance away the ache, or the lack thereof. Those times when you are more demon than you are you.

This is not too surprising considering that I collect neurological disorders like other people collect comic books. Basically I’ve become so talented at having disorders that I can literally have one in my sleep. Victor doesn’t think this is really something to brag about, but that’s probably because he doesn’t have any disorders and he’s jealous. Jesus. It’s not a competition, Victor.

There’s so much shame involved in not being like everyone else. But I learned that the things that made me unique were good. Dealing with problems can be awful. But in the end I got positive results. I don’t think I would have been a writer if I didn’t have anxiety.

I remembered watching Slim Goodbody on TV, an odd white guy with a small Afro who wore a full-body leotard with the inside of the human body painted on it, which made him look as if he’d been flayed alive. He.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well, but only one whose face I want to peel off and wear around my parlor. Lock thy door, Mrs. Lawson. – JANE AUSTEN.

The whole world could be cured with enough cake and antipsychotics.