I’ve often thought that people with severe depression have developed such a well for experiencing extreme emotion that they might be able to experience extreme joy in a way that “normal” people also might never understand, and that’s what FURIOUSLY HAPPY is all about.

— Jenny Lawson

Lady, you have the wrong number. Our cat isn't even in the hospital. He doesn't want pajamas.

— Jenny Lawson

No. I can’t have sex with you today because there aren’t enough spoons.

— Jenny Lawson

No," I replied testily. "I'm pretty sure 'digital' is Latin for 'funeral,' so finger cancer equals digital cancer. This is all basic anatomy, Dr. Roland." The Dr. Roland told me that he thought I was overreacting, and the "funeral" wasn't even a real word. Then I told him that I thought he was underreacting, probably because he's embarrassed that he doesn't know how Latin works. Then he claimed that "underrating" isn't a word either. The man has a terrible bedside manner.

— Jenny Lawson

Or the woman in front of me in the security line who asked if they would put her cat, Dave, through the luggage X-ray machine because she wanted to see if he'd eaten a necklace.

— Jenny Lawson

Really, the only people you should be comparing yourself to would be people who make you feel better by comparison. For instance, people who are in comas, because those people have no spoons at all, and you don't see anyone judging them. Personally, I always compare myself to Galileo because everyone knows he's fantastic, but he has no spoons at all because he's dead. So technically I'm better than Galileo because all I've done is take a shower, and already I've accomplished more than him today.

— Jenny Lawson

Refrigerators are good for keeping homemade moonshine less gross. Freezers are good for keeping rattlesnakes less angry. Garages are good to hide in when your wife finds either.

— Jenny Lawson

Still, everyone at the party tried it because no one wants to admit that gazpacho tastes like partially melted tomato ice cream. The problem was that by the time they swallowed their spoonful of Popsicle the waiter was gone, causing all of them to stand in their elegant attire while awkwardly holding a dirty spoon like a terrible, unwanted accessory. Some people laid their empty spoons on windowsills or on the ground when they though no one was looking, but most just looked with quiet desperation for a waiter who might never return and were forced to hold the spoons at their sides, seemingly pretending that the spoons were cigarettes or small fancy dogs. I saw one woman look around expectantly for a minute and when she realized no one was coming back for the spoon she just shrugged and tossed it in the pool. It seemed slightly bitchy, but you have to respect that level of I-have-no-fucks-left-to-give-about-silverware-that-doesn't-even-belong-to-me. With that one spoon drop she told everyone at the party, "If you aren't going to take care of your shit them I'm sure as hell not going to take responsibility for it.

— Jenny Lawson

Strangers seem uncomfortable when you question them about their childhood. But really, what else are you going to talk about in line at the liquor store? Childhood trauma seems like the natural choice, since it’s the reason why most of us are in line there to begin with.

— Jenny Lawson

That night I looked up at those same stars, but I didn't want any of those things. I didn't want Egypt, or France, or far-flung destinations. I just wanted to go back to my life from my childhood, just to visit it, and touch it, and to convince myself that yes, it had been real.

— Jenny Lawson