Maybe there is no actual place called hell. Maybe hell is just having to listen to our grandparents breathe through their noses when they're eating sandwiches.
I like fruit baskets because it gives you the ability to mail someone a piece of fruit without appearing insane. Like, if someone just mailed you an apple you'd be like, 'huh? What the hell is this?' But if it's in a fruit basket you're like, 'this is nice!'
What a man has made himself he will be; his state is the result of his past life, and his heaven or hell is in himself.
My idea of hell is a girlfriend ringing up and saying, 'Let's go shopping and have cocktails.' I'd rather play cards.
Hell is where everyone is doing his own thing. Paradise is where everyone is doing God's thing.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
Kids cannot follow stories. They don't know what the hell is going on in a cartoon. They like to see funny visual things happening.
When I'm on the red carpet, most people say, 'Who the hell is that?' It's downright embarrassing.
Hell is full of musical amateurs.
Hell is full of good meanings and wishings.