Aubry Mayfield > Aubry's Quotes

“In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria.”
― Benjamin Franklin

“Adults...struggle desperately with fiction, demanding constantly that it conform to the rules of everyday life. Adults foolishly demand to know how Superman can possibly fly, or how Batman can possibly run a multibillion-dollar business empire during the day and fight crime at night, when the answer is obvious even to the smallest child: because it's not real.”
― Grant Morrison, Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human

“We tell our children they're trapped like rats on a doomed, bankrupt, gangster-haunted planet with dwindling resources, with nothing to look forward to but rising sea levels and imminent mass extinctions, then raise a disapproving eyebrow when, in response, they dress in black, cut themselves with razors, starve themselves, gorge themselves, or kill one another.”
― Grant Morrison, Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human

“Hell is only the Cringe Eternal and the Place of our Self's Undoing. When Nietzsche proclaimed "God is Dead!" he forgot to add that Satan is also dead and we are free from all that antique tat.”
― Grant Morrison

“Dance like you're stamping on a human face forever, love like you've been in a serious car crash that minced the front of your brain, stab like no one can arrest you, and live like there's no such thing as God.”
― Warren Ellis

“Tradition:' one of those words conservative people use as a shortcut to thinking.”
― Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan, Vol. 4: The New Scum

“The book is almost always better than the movie. You could have no better case in point than FROM HELL, Alan Moore's best graphic novel to date, brilliantly illustrated by Eddie Campbell. It's hard to describe just how much better the book is.

It's like, "If the movie was an episode of Battlestar Galactica with a guest appearance by the Smurfs and everyone spoke Dutch, the graphic novel is Citizen Kane with added sex scenes and music by your favourite ten bands and everyone in the world you ever hated dies at the end."

That's how much better it is.”
― Warren Ellis

“Here in Britain, of course, it's Thank Fuck We Got Those Weird Jesus Bastards On The Boat Day”
― Warren Ellis

“Scotch whisky is made from barley and the morning dew on angel's nipples.”
― Warren Ellis

“Journalism is just a gun. It’s only got one bullet in it, but if you aim right, that’s all you need. Aim it right, and you can blow a kneecap off the world.”
― Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan, Vol. 1: Back on the Street

“You want to know about voting. I'm here to tell you about voting. Imagine you're locked in a huge underground night-club filled with sinners, whores, freaks and unnameable things that rape pitbulls for fun. And you ain't allowed out until you all vote on what you're going to do tonight. You like to put your feet up and watch "Republican Party Reservation". They like to have sex with normal people using knives, guns, and brand new sexual organs you did not even know existed. So you vote for television, and everyone else, as far as your eye can see, votes to fuck you with switchblades. That's voting. You're welcome.”
― Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan, Vol. 3: Year of the Bastard

“My grandfather had died, and my mother was trying to explain it to me. . . .Grandpa isn't coming back? No, she said. Not ever again. . . . And I remember saying, hold everything right fucking there. You went to all the trouble of conceiving me, and giving birth to me, and raising me and clothing me and all . . . and you make me cry and things hurt so much and disappointments crush my heart every day and I can't do half the things I want to and sometimes I just want to scream -- and what I've got to look forward to is my body breaking and something flipping off the switch in my head -- I go through all this, and then there's death? What is the motherfucking deal here? I wasn't having this. This was not fair.”
― Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan, Vol. 5: Lonely City

“I was having a mildly paranoid day, mostly due to the fact that the mad priest lady from over the river had taken to nailing weasels to my front door again.”
― Warren Ellis

“So this Zealot comes to my door, all glazed eyes and clean reproductive organs, asking me if I ever think about God. So I tell him I killed God. I tracked God down like a rabid dog, hacked off his legs with a hedge trimmer, raped him with a corncob, and boiled off his corpse in an acid bath. So he pulls an alternating-current taser on me and tells me that only the Official Serbian Church of Tesla can save my polyphase intrinsic electric field, known to non-engineers as "the soul." So I hit him. What would you do?”
― Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan, Vol. 3: Year of the Bastard

“Chris Claremont once said of Alan Moore, "if he could plot, we'd all have to get together and kill him." Which utterly misses the most compelling part of Alan's writing, the way he develops and expresses ideas and character. Plot does not define story. Plot is the framework within which ideas are explored and personalities and relationships are unfolded.”
― Warren Ellis

“The interior of our skulls contains a portal to infinity.”
― Grant Morrison, Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human

“There was no plan for us. We are a misspelling being erased by Death in order for the story of total chaos to continue.”
― Keith Buckley, Scale

“But now what was I worth? The books I discovered at the behest of my intellectually superior professors are now coming to me thanks to an algorithm developed to suggest what I should buy based on what other similar shoppers have also bought...”
― Keith Buckley, Scale

“Look, I know you think I have a coke problem but I do not. I can quit any time I run out.”
― Keith Buckley, Scale

“Anything to construct a new safe place where the melancholic freeze can’t find you. But all this is done to the detriment of your mind which is so tired from spinning the plates of so many different weights and sizes that it threatens collapse like a universe out of momentum, so you postpone decay by putting the inarguable tenet that it really truly did happen far in the back of your heart where it rots and takes up room that love could be occupying knowing one day it will just be all hard and black like an old rose, and because it is full of such incomprehensible truths, you believe, but will never say, that one day soon it will not serve you in the ways it was meant to serve you. It will pump blood and it will skip occasionally but that doesn’t even matter since it will not love another person well, no matter how hard you beg it to love another person well, and like a car that won’t start, it sits there hopelessly gasping and you know that it is your fault that it can’t be moved, so you drink even more because awareness of a lost way is the worst thing a creature on this earth can possibly have and when you lose sight of beauty you gain ownership of all the knowledge of everything evil that has ever been. You wish only to drown deeper because the acute agony felt in every nerve as you sink into your bottle is a welcomed distraction from the certainty of the pain your lust has howled into the garden. You stand alone in hell looking only into the dead eyes of your grim past. You are so sad and feel so disconnected from joy and love itself that when someone—anyone at all—reaches out to you in the mist that holds you back from the goodness of life like an unbreachable ravine you will become so thankful for her touch that reminds you of the girl you were sent to protect that you will kiss her lips and make yourself believe that interruption from grief might be what love is now but it is not, it is just another cruel trick hell plays on its slaves. It was only more wretchedness, because what even an absent god knows is that love is unmistakable. Love is unmistakable and nobody loves you like the one who waits.”
― Keith Buckley, Scale