Giuseppe Bramlette > Giuseppe's Quotes

“He could take one look at me- at the ashtray, the bottle, the four pots of coffee, my face, and my gut set like a stone on the white band of the towel- he could take one look at me and be pretty sure i ran on heavy fuel.”
― Martin Amis, Money

“But even that day, there on the porch, with Charles beside me and the smell of wood smoke in the air, it had the quality of a memory; there it was, before my eyes, and yet too beautiful to believe.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“Определение полного мудака, я считаю, это когда кто-то не верит в то, что видит.”
― Richard Bachman (Stephen King)

“Perhaps space travel is forever doomed because it inevitably recapitulates primitive stages in the growth of our nervous systems, before the development of our sense of balance and upright posture—a forced return to infantile dependency.”
― J.G. Ballard, The Atrocity Exhibition

“So…” Kimball looks at his book helplessly. “There’s nothing you can tell me about Paul Owen?”

“Well.” I sigh. “He led what I suppose was an orderly life, I guess. “ Really stumped, I offer, “He...ate a balanced diet.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

“Bruce, you’re an ugly and silly old man. You’re very possibly an alcoholic and God knows what else. You’re the type of sad case who preys on vulnerable, weak and stupid women in order to boost his own shattered ego. You’re a mess. You’ve gone wrong somewhere pal.”
― Irvine Welsh, Filth

“unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it”
― charles bukowski

“Have you by chance brought some real British tea? Twining’s? Or from Jackson’s in Piccadilly?”
― Anthony Burgess, Earthly Powers

“Write. Don't think. Relax.”
― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing: Releasing the Creative Genius Within You

“Down through the druid wood I saw Wildman join with Cleaver Creek, put on weight, exchange his lean and hungry look for one of more well-fed fanaticism. Then came Chichamoonga, the Indian Influence, whooping along with its banks war-painted with lupine and columbine. Then Dog Creek, then Olson Creek, then Weed Creek. Across a glacier-raked gorge I saw Lynx Falls spring hissing and spitting from her lair of fire-bright vine maple, claw the air with silver talons, then crash screeching into the tangle below. Darling Ida Creek slipped demurely from beneath a covered bridge to add her virginal presence, only to have the family name blackened immediately after by the bawdy rollicking of her brash sister, Jumping Nellie. There followed scores of relatives of various nationalities: White Man Creek, Dutchman Creek, Chinaman Creek, Deadman Creek, and even a Lost Creek, claiming with a vehement roar that, in spite of hundreds of other creeks in Oregon bearing the same name, she was the one and only original...Then Leaper Creek...Hideout Creek...Bossman Creek...I watched them one after another pass beneath their bridges to join in the gorge running alongside the highway, like members of a great clan marshaling into an army, rallying, swelling, marching to battle as the war chant became deeper and richer.”
― Ken Kesey, Sometimes a Great Notion

“How old were you then?” “Fourteen.” “Do you remember anything about it?” “Very little.” “You don’t remember? It was like an earthquake. Apartment doors were flung wide open, people went in and took things and left. No one asked any questions. They deported a quarter of the city. Don’t you remember?” “Yes, I do. But the shameful thing is, at the time it didn’t seem the most important thing in the world. They explained it to us at school—why it was necessary, why it was expedient.”
― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Cancer Ward: A Novel

“The man watched him. Real life is pretty bad?

What do you think?

Well, I think we're still here. A lot of bad things have happened but we're still here.

Yeah.

You don't think that's so great.

It's okay.”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

“I cannot help feeling there is something essentially wrong about love. Friends may quarrel or drift apart, close relations too, but there is not this pang, this pathos, this fatality which clings to love. Friendship never has that doomed look. Why, what is the matter? I have not stopped loving you, but because I cannot go on kissing your dim dear face, we must part, we must part.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight

“I just want to know how you're made," Trevor breathed in his ear. "I love you so much, Zach. I want to climb inside you. I want to taste your brain. I want to feel your heart beating in my hands.”
― Poppy Z. Brite

“At first, I was shocked that Diane could even suggest this family reunion [on television], and then I realized this is just the way of the world, or at least the way of fin de siecle America. Not only would the next revolution be televised, but so would every other little stupid thing. It was already happening: Television reunions between adopted children and their birth parents...”
― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

“He picked her up and tossed her on the bed.

They had a hell of a time.

But afterward, after she had gone back to her own room, depression came to him and what had seemed like such a hell of a time became distasteful, even a little disgusting. It was the depression of surfeit, the tail of selfindulgence’s kit. You flew high, wide, and handsome, imposing on the breeze that might have wafted you along indefinitely; and then it was gone, and down, down, down you went.”
― Jim Thompson, The Grifters

“Some men are terrified by the dark nature of the Moon, but not the Devil. The Devil is afraid of nothing he can fuck. And there’s very little the Devil won’t stick his dick in. He’ll bugger the Priest, orgy with Art, and rape the shit out of Justice. The whole of the Universe is the only hole he won’t try to fill.”
― Tanya Thompson, Red Russia

“I have never yielded to reality.”
― Philip K. Dick, The Golden Man

“It was this simple. Some had it. Others would always falter when it came to the crunch.”
― Stieg Larsson, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest

“A book lying idle on a shelf is wasted ammunition.”
― Henry Miller, The Books in My Life

“So many stories are determined before they start.”
― Lionel Shriver, We Need to Talk About Kevin