Jone Heppding > Jone's Quotes

“You've got a shitty habit, you know it? I've noticed it on all those TV drive-safely pitches that you do. You breathe in people's ears. You sound like a stallion in heat, Philbrick. That's a shitty habit. You also sound like you're reading off a teleprompter, even when you're not. You ought to take care of stuff like that. You might save a life.”
― Richard Bachman, Rage

“„»Ich hatte Angst«, sagte er.
»Leute, die keine haben, sterben jung«,”
― Richard Bachmann

“Olson sat up. He put his hands against his belly and stared calmly at the poised soldiers on the deck of the squat vehicle. the soldiers stared back. 'You bastards!' McVries sobbed. 'You bloody bastards!' Olson began to get up. Another volley of bullets drove him flat again. Now there was a sound from behind Garraty. He didn't have to turn his head to know it was Stebbins. Stebbins was laughing softly. Olson sat up again. The guns were still trained on him, but the soldiers did not shoot. Their silhouettes on the halftrack seemed almost to indicate curiosity. Slowly, reflectively, Olson gained his feet, hands crossed on his belly. He seemed to sniff the air for direction, turned slowly in the direction of the Walk, and began to stagger along.”
― Richard Bachman

“Denn wenn man niemanden hat, den man ab und an aus der Stadt verjagen kann, wie soll man dann wissen, dass man selbst dorthin gehört?”
― Richard Bachmann

“He watched his feet, the only things that were keeping him from finding out if there really was a Kingdom of Heaven or not.”
― Richard Bachman, The Long Walk

“So this is how cunts that never shag fuckin well live. A life oy impotence, resentment, anger and frustration; nae fuckin exuberance in life, forced tae become an Internet troll or a miserable drunk in a boozer.”
― Irvine Welsh, A Decent Ride

“Her mum thought gourmet cooking was putting a load of fish fingers under the grill instead of in the frying pan.”
― Irvine Welsh

“- Makes nae fucking difference. Rents n Stevie came up fae London for this. If Rents n Stevie kin come up fae fucking London, Sick Boy kin come up fae fuckcing France.
Spud's senses were dangerously dulled with the alcohol. Stupidly, he kept the argument going. - Yeah, but, eh... France is further away... wir talking aboot the south ay France here, likesay. Ken?
Begbie looked incredulously at Spud. Obviously the message had not got across. He spoke lower, higher and with a snarl twisting his cruel mouth into a strange shape below his blazing eyes.
- IF RENTS N STEVIE KIN COME UP FI FUCKING LONDON, SICK BOY KIN COME UP FAE FUCKING FRANCE!
- Yeah... right enough. Should've made the effort. Mate's funeral likesay, ken. Spud thought that the Conservative Party in Scotland could do with a few Begbies. It's not what the message is, the problem is just communication. Begbie is good at getting the message across.”
― Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

“Perché adesso so che fare le cose non ti ferisce:resti ferito se le eviti.”
― Irvine Welsh, The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs

“He notes the depressing haste with which the successful, in the sexual sphere as in all others, segment themselves from the failures.”
― Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

“Es una mierda que las tías te cojan cariño pero sólo en plan amigo. Me pasa constantemente: me veo metido en el papel del tío majo con el que no quieren follar. Me encantaría hacer de hijo de puta al que matan a polvos”
― Irvine Welsh, Skagboys

“The city centre was still crawling with Christmas shoppers looking to add to their already burgeoning piles of gifts. To Scott they were like ants at a picnic, teeming from store to store, trailing oversized carrier bags and infants behind them as they went. Scott felt alien in this environment; pulling up his hood he hurried through the crowds, dodging pushchairs, lit cigarettes and charity collection tins.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“A shaft of moonlight illuminated a row of sentinel silver birch in a phosphorescent glow, appearing almost ethereal in the relative surrounding gloom. Boris had stopped again, his silhouette a stark black juxtaposition against the background of illuminated branches.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“Around the outside of the room other beautiful women wearing little or nothing at all flitted between the infatuated, intoxicated men, sometimes luring them away for a private dance. The men would follow obediently, weighed down by lust and credit cards.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Zombie Room

“You don't know what torture is. You don't know what you're talking about. You really don't know what you're talking about.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

“he looked at me with such vehemence that I felt like a blip, a fart, in the course of his life.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, The Rules of Attraction

“How do I know you're not crazy?" she asks. "How do I know you're not the craziest dude I've ever met?"
"You'll have to test me out."
"You have my info," she says. "I'll think about it."
"Rain," I say. "That's not your real name."
"Does it matter?"
"Well, it makes me wonder what else isn't real."
"That's because you're a writer," she says. "That's because you make things up for a living."
"And?"
"And"-- she shrugs--"I've noticed that writers tend to worry about things like that.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Imperial Bedrooms

“Upon meeting Julian Morrow, one has the impression that he is a man of extraordinary sympathy and warmth. But what you call his 'Asiatic serenity' is, I think, a mask for great coldness. The face one shows him he invariably reflects back at one, creating the illusion of warmth and depth when in fact he is brittle and shallow as a mirror.”
― Donna Tartt

“Sometimes, when there’s been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over. Action slows to a dreamlike glide, frame by frame; the motion of a hand, a sentence spoken, fills an eternity.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“It does not do to be frightened of things about which you know nothing,” he said. “You are like children. Afraid of the dark.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“But Robin: their dear little Robs. More than ten years later, his death remained an agony; there was no glossing any detail; its horror was not subject to repair or permutation by any of the narrative devices that the Cleves knew. And—since this willful amnesia had kept Robin's death from being translated into that sweet old family vernacular which smoothed even the bitterest mysteries into comfortable, comprehensible form—the memory of that day's events had a chaotic, fragmented quality, bright mirrorshards of nightmare which flared at the smell of wisteria, the creaking of a clothes-line, a certain stormy cast of spring light.”
― Donna Tartt, The Little Friend

“They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover”
― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

“The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers . . . and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls . . . Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

“Don't judge your taco by its price”
― Hunter S. Thompson

“There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream

“He gave my hand a final shake. “Okay, Kemp,” he said with a grin. “Thanks a lot – you came through like a champ.” “Hell,” I said, starting the engine. “We’re all champs when we’re drunk.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary

“Blessed tree and blessed birds, that were to be neither saved nor damned.”
― Anthony Burgess, A Dead Man in Deptford

“What’s on them, I wonder. What would be up there on things like that?’ I nudged him hard, saying: ‘Come, gloopy bastard as thou art. Think thou not on them. There’ll be life like down here most likely, with some getting knifed and others doing the knifing.”
― Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

“I’ll tell you a thing that will shock you. It will certainly shock the readers of Writer’s Digest. What I often do nowadays when I have to, say, describe a room, is to take a page of a dictionary, any page at all, and see if with the words suggested by that one page in the dictionary I can build up a room, build up a scene. … I even did it in a novel I wrote called MF. There’s a description of a hotel vestibule whose properties are derived from Page 167 in R.J. Wilkinson’s Malay-English Dictionary. Nobody has noticed. … As most things in life are arbitrary anyway, you’re not doing anything naughty, you’re really normally doing what nature does, you’re just making an entity out of the elements. I do recommend it to young writers.”
― Anthony Burgess

“I said goodbye again
sucking up all that was left of her into the
little that was left of
me. I said, 'don't look for me again. fuck it.
we are all lost. goodbye, goodbye.”
― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last