Jarod Kintz quotes:

Thanks to my grandpa, I can go to France and not be visiting Germany. He single-handedly won WWII (he only has one hand).

Telephone pole wires get in the way of great photos. Communication always gets in the way of communication.

If my name were Nubby Blues, I wouldn't be a jazz musician, I'd be a disabled Vietnam vet on welfare.

I bowl with cannonballs, because this is war, 1863 style. I could probably bowl a perfect 300 game using only half the deaths at Gettysburg.

I am not the No Factory I yessed into existence. I love with an intensity that needs to be felt to be purred.

I wish somebody would have told my grandpa about the Cold War, so he could have at least put on a jacket.

I call my thumb Napoleon, because I rarely ever lose a thumb war. Also because my thumb's so small, and I wear a tiny funny hat and cape on it.

Mow the carpet, vacuum the lawn, and make love like war.

We made love like we made grilled cheese sandwiches. Did the sandwiches cause us to have sex? Did one bullet lead to WWI?

I should invent a stationary bike/electrical generator/phonograph player, so that when the grid goes down I will have motivation to exercise for my nightly entertainment.

I watched a bowl of fruit on the table remain motionless. Just another example of life imitating art.

Can America get back to a point where politicians are honest? Not unless that point is the tip of a sword.

I'm not interested in you as a person. I am, however, interested in you as a banana.

I want to put silencers on all guns. That way war will be nothing more than a whisper in the future. And all those who are caught whispering will be shot.

I think guns would be more effective if bullets worked like boomerangs.

I want to lose weight by eating nothing but moon pies, which have significantly less gravity than earthier foods such as fruits and vegetables.

Love is like war, except without all the blood and death and stuff.

I would rather make love than war, but only because condoms kill millions of lives more enjoyably.

Why would the US try to win a war? War is an assembly line of death that is highly profitable for politicians and weapons manufacturers. An ongoing war is a conveyer belt of cash. Once your war is won, the assembly line has stopped and the big money is gone.

More Americans died in WWII than in any other world war, with the possible exception of WWI.

If pens doubled as bullets, I bet few writers would want to write about war.

To stop a battle, a politician would propose a war.

If science took my IQ and spread it evenly among the world's population, like mental mayonnaise, we'd have more art, less war, and higher cholesterol.

Too much coffee has been spilled in the name of war. Let us love and savor every drop.

The right people came along with the right tools (eyelids), and it was goodnight, war. Peace felt like such a dream, probably because it was.

When politicians declare war, I declare my love for antilove for them.

Love is trench warfare. So stand aside, and let me keep digging.

Every time the wind blows I think of her. I wonder if I could generate electricity off my yearning. Maybe a mind wind farm of some kind. Hopefully I could provide enough power for all the lonely people in my bathtub to stay warm.

Being a parent is a gift, one which most men unselfishly allow women to keep all to themselves.

The beautiful part about killing someone with an icicle is the murder weapon melts and then evaporates. And your assassination can be fruit flavored!

I'm all about safe fruit. After I peel a banana, I roll on a condom.

Instead of rolling out the red carpet, what about a cherry Fruit Roll-Up? Sometimes celebrity is a path you have to eat in retreat.

I had a dream about you. You owned a farm, and you grew teamwork, because yours was an ant farm. I was a coach looking to recruit some new fruit, but I decided to give your produce a try. I made the right decision because I ended up winning the 2014 World Picnic Championships.

I peel cats like I pet oranges. And I often snuggle with watermelons, sometimes with the intent of making love.

Love is a blur. So is this picture. But what do you expect? Murder is fuzzy, like a peach. Yummy!

The banana peel is the condom of the fruit world.

The smell of coffee was enough to wake up my neighbors. In a display of gratitude, they complained about my music being too loud.

I both made the knife-fighting team, and I got cut. If only love were so easy to understand.

Coaching 101: First you build the team, and then you build the torture chamber for underperformers.

I love teamwork. I love the idea of everyone rallying together to help me win.

In all four years of high school, not once did I make the football team. The other part of the story is that I never even tried out. Just raw talent, I guess.

If man traveled as a centipede does, rather than with two self-interested steps at a time, more common ground would get covered.

I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is that your house hasn't burned down, you don't have cancer, and your daughter hasn't been raped or murdered. The bad news is that I ran over your dog. And your son. And his wife. But not before I ran out of gas to achieve all of that.

I would hate to see seventeen people with monosyllabic names like Mike or Ann die, but if they did, and you wrote down all their names in groups of 5-7-5, you'd have one tragic haiku.

When tragedy befalls me and someone says, Better you than me, I always reply, Yes, I am better than you.

God ordered the world and all things in it, and I ordered a pizza and all things on it.

I want to be the leading man in a story about followers.

My leadership style can be summed up in one word: Follower.

I must be a great leader because many people follow me. Most of the people are police officers, if that gives you any indication of my character.

Are you tired, irritable, or suffering rom heartburn? Ask your doctor if my love is right for you. 9 out of 10 doctors agree that 9 out of 10 is 90%.

When I feel sad, I try to think of someone else in the world who is suffering worse than me. Like someone in Seattle, who is hurting so bad financially that instead of a vente coffee at Starbucks every morning, they have to downsize to grande.

Sell canoes to those who are enduring a drought, and sell sunscreen to those suffering from flooding. But give love freely to all, because samples encourage sales.

I need to condense my adrenaline, carbonate it, sweeten it, and sell it as an energy drink.

I want instant coffee at the snap of my fingers that gives me more energy than that generated by a million snaps.

Her smile energizes me as the sun photosynthesizes life. Our love grows daily.

Like a pair of dead batteries, I felt energized. Love is the light in my Can of Darkness.

I make sleep like I make love, only with more energy and excitement.

With my career I want to either make something or make an impact. Writers both make something, and make an impact.

Columbus was born around 1492. I say around because before that the world was flat. My stomach also used to be flat, but now it looks like a globe is about to be born.

There are two typos of people in this world: those who can edit, and those who can't.

A writer edits his thoughts more thoroughly the more readers he has. You can tell I only have two readers, myself included.

If you can listen to or read anything, but misspelled words offend you, raise your hadn.

Rather than change the content of my book, I changed the font. I think it made my book funnier.

What ends in a W, has no beginning, and is always in the present? Now.

When she tried to seduce me, I got suspicious, thinking she was just after my massive fortune. Then I relaxed, when I remembered I'm poor.

I mined my mind, and I found no love. My heart is where excavation yields gold, and if you dig me as much as I dig you, we can both get rich.

Together kabobs make the world better than all the Bobs combined.

Love is being able to be yourself, with another human being who makes you want to be better than yourself.

The best ingredient is free. Free always makes food taste better.

For me, TV and broke go together. Not as in, The TV is broken, but more of noticing that most people who watch too much TV are broke.

How to arrive unexpectedly and invisibly: show up looking poor, but not homeless.

For most Americans, money and calories are always on their minds, although they burn too much of one, and not enough of the other.

For my birthday, a few of my wealthier friends got me a pot to piss in. Also, they were kind enough to fill it up with cat litter.

Enjoy a life of poverty. Become a poet.

If you have one dollar and I have a hundred dollars, I could say I have a hundred times the amount of money you do. And while that's true, it makes me sound wealthy and you sound poor, when the reality is we're both broke.

Poor is the man who thinks money makes him wealthy. Love is the true treasure, and the more you give away, the more you have.

I tried to mug a wealthy man, but was unsuccessful because I was out of coffee cups. I wish I was less poor and more pour.

Growing up I was so poor I wore coffee cups as shoes. The good part was my feet never fell asleep.

Love can make a flower more fragrant, a blue sky bluer, and an empty bank account emptier. I should probably sign up for another credit card.

Artists exist to show us the world. So do windows.

My brain is divided into two butterflies, and both are in love with your rose-shaped heart. If you've got the garden, I've got my whole life.

A flowing flurry of flowers fell to the floor when I fell in love, as if my heart were a garden that gushed forth and flooded her being with the fragrance of romance.

My heart is spinning. Love is a tornado. Will you be my Kansas?

Love will wreck your heart like a derailed train. So choo-choose your partner wisely.

My heartbeat is a pulse, and it pumps out sonic vibrations that resonate with her mind as she lays her head on my chest. Listen silently and you can hear the frequency of love.

Combine a fog machine and a cotton candy maker to create delicious mystery. This is the heart of romance.

Love is an art. Mine could fill a museum the size of your heart.

I have the heart of a lion, and the circulatory system of a lamb.

I know I love her, because when I see her my heart beats like a drum. If she played guitar and sang, we could start a band.

When I see a beautiful woman, my heart doesn't go Thump, thump. It goes Hush, hush. I'm very secretive about my feelings.

Or maybe nobody can fill that special place in her heart because I was nobody. And the only thing that fills a hole is a hole. And dirt.

To understand involves the intellect, but to be understanding involves the heart.

A flower blooms in my heart. You may call that love, but I call it water conservation.

I close my eyes and feel the texture of brick on my fingers in my mind. I try to imagine the wall that surrounds your heart, so I can best devise a plan to breach it.

Love with all your heart. And the rest of your body. Oh, and your mind, too.

If anger were money, only a fool would greedily save it up. And a wise man would let it slip out of his heart like change slips out of his pants pockets.

One time a woman made my heart flood with love, and then fled the scene of the subsequent boating accident. Many people drowned that day, and all of them remember it fondly as they fondle themselves.

I keep my heart in my hope chest. Other items in there are clothes, towels, silverware, and all the love I have to offer my future wife. I must specify that my love is hand wash only.

My heart is closed, but open. Closed to one woman in particular, but open to the public. Guided tours are offered Monday through Friday 9-5.

She was very close to my heart. Even though we were separated by a distance of 400 years, I was lying on her grave.

Every day I think today could be my last day. My only fear is dying without telling her I love her one more time. All I pray for is one more time.

You can use your mouth to speak the words I love you, or you can use your mouth to kiss me and transport love from your mind to my heart.

Water can be as hard as ice and as soft as fog, which is why my love is so drinkable, because it is fluid and forgiving. It's easy to love until there's nothing left. Eventually, the water runs out, the ice melts, and the fog fades into an abyss.-Jarod Kintz and Karen Quan

I'm here at The Container Store looking for something large enough to hold all my love for her. It's a flood, so I hope they sell Shipping Container Ships.

To wait on love is to tie a weight on your heart and slowly drown. Why sink when you can fly by freely giving love away?

I can sell you wine and I can sell you flowers, but I can't sell you romance, because that comes from your heart, and it's free.

The going rate for love is going away. And the more you go away, the more expensive it gets.

Her love was too cold, like an anti-oven. That's called a freezer, and sometimes it burns food. She gave me heartburn, just like coffee, and it really woke me up to the reality of relationships.

The roses of romance grow when you water your relationship with gratitude. Love will bloom and blossom when you recognize the awesome.

She plants love, and she grows roses. The fragrance of romance comes from the blossom that blooms in the heart.

Either I will love you, or I will love you if and only if you love me in return. I prefer the former.

If you want to steal my heart, you must realize it's not a one-time heist. This theft will take every minute of the rest of your life.

She makes my heart melt. There is a limited supply of sips, so grab a straw and start slurping while you can.

Be mindful and heartempty, because you've got no love left in it due to you having given it all away.

My heart only grows more powerful the more my flowing love goes unabsorbed, unobserved, and unappreciated.

Your washing machine is my bathtub. Every time I see you my heart spins with desire. YA by nosit' Moskvu shtany dlya vas, kak drozh' babushki. (I'd wear Moscow as pants for you, like a shivering grandma.)

Sometimes love will break your heart in two. Or three, depending on if there's an extra person involved, or how unmanageably large your heart is.

I sell Jarod-shaped earplugs that just may plug up the hole in your heart. My earplugs are modeled after a nude Helen Keller.

My love for you is like a Florida sunset. Orange, coral, pink, and lavender, it exists to warm your heart through the inevitable darkness.

Love rocks. Stones also rock. I wish I could scissors paper my way into your heart.