Nicole Cushing > Quotes

“How can we know, for sure, that the universe is an immense tapestry? What proof is there that this is the case? Absolutely none! By simply asserting it’s a tapestry, without any evidence, believers cheat. What if, instead of a tapestry, the universe is a massive collage clumsily glued onto light-years of black construction paper by a drooling, psychotic lowlife? This seems to make far more sense to me. It would explain a lot.”
― Nicole Cushing, A Sick Gray Laugh

“I don't want to be dramatic. I don't want to leave a note. Notes are for girls and faggots. If I do it, I'll do it in such a way that there won't be any mistaking the fact that it was a suicide. I would hang myself - that's plenty unambiguous. The proverbial picture worth a thousand words. That picture, alone, would say to whoever found me: "Look. I didn't want to be here.”
― Nicole Cushing, Mr. Suicide

“The cat batted the thick, orange extension cord with his soft white paws; catching it in his teeth, gnawing, oblivious to the fact that Sheila planned to use it to hang herself. “Stop it!” Her voice cracked, her face grew hot.”
― Nicole Cushing, The Mirrors

“I’d known back in high school that humanity was nothing but automatons, but I’d been cowered into submission by my stay at Restful Meadows.”
― Nicole Cushing, I Am the New God

“Happy, beautiful people have no need of God. It is only when people are debased by degeneracy of the mind or body that they consciously seek me out. And I desire to be sought out. Worshiped. For”
― Nicole Cushing, The Sadist's Bible

“Kaye half-wakes. Half-wishes she were half-dead. Imagines she is half-dead. Imagines herself wrapped in an antique lace shroud. No, it’s not lace. Nor is it a shroud. It’s spiderwebs. Spiders skitter through her esophagus. Their footfalls are light, but sticky. The lace is really a spider web. No, the spider web is actually a threadbare sheet. Actually, the threadbare sheet is the skin of a ghost. Yes, a ghost is nothing more than an animated sheet. They’re raised on sheet farms, slaughtered, and taxidermied. The sheets you buy at the store are ghost corpses.”
― Nicole Cushing, The Plastic Priest