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Paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all the paper. And the work.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
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Friona
Texas
Weren
Paper
Wouldn
Work
Paperwork

More quotes by Darynda Jones

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I noticed you tore down Donovan's house. He lifted his gaze until it locked with mine. He's alive because he left town. His house chose to stay. It paid the price.
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Who knew that all this time the nectar of the Gods was in my va-jay-jay.
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Okay, I'll strip. I'll tap dance. I'll sing 'La Cucaracha' in C minor.
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That boy needs a hobby. Stalking is a hobby. So is serial killing.
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The dead guy looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t move my legs.” I snorted. “You can’t move your arms either, or your feet or your freaking eyelids. You’re dead.
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That you honestly believe I am capable of hurting innocent people for no reason.” “You’re not?” I asked, hope softening my voice. “Oh, no, I’m more than capable. I just didn’t realize you knew that.
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I'm a virgin. But this is an old shirt. --T-SHIRT
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I like to see the glass as half full, hopefully of jack daniels.
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After a geological epoch passed in which single-celled organisms evolved into talk show hosts, Mr. Coffee was still holding out on me.
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He's helped me a lot over the years. I'm sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours. I have skin allergies. I'm itchy.
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When life hands you lemons say, Lemons? What else have you got? - bumper sticker
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You’re just using me for my body.” “You don’t have a body,” I’d remind him. “Throw that in my face.” “Technically, you don’t have a face either.
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There is a great need for a sarcasm font.
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I'd have a longer attention span if there weren't so many shiny things.
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You can’t have him, okay,” she said from behind the wire barrier. “Mm-hmm,” I whispered. “This is certainly a beautiful neighborhood.” “Yeah, I guess.” “I will scratch those eyes out of your ugly head.
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I was white. Chalk had more color than I did. And quite possibly more personality.
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I chose the road less traveled. Now I'm lost.
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He bombarded me with words, of all things, apparently clueless to the fact that the predawn hours rendered me incapable of coherent thought.
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What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr.Stalker, but could you, like, not?
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Death comes to those who wait. And to those who don't. So either way.
Darynda Jones