My grandmother lives alone. she is very old, very happy and very Catholic. Once, i was told that after having her first thirteen children she took a little break for three years until her village priest told her to get on with her “duty as a woman” while she was still good.
We signed our CDs, of course, and shirts and posters too – usually with a black or silver Sharpie. But we also signed: phone cases, sneakers, reading glasses, Bibles, passports (You know this is illegal, right?), purses, faces (please don’t get that tattooed), armpits, puppets, babies (please don’t get that tattooed, either), feet, shot glasses, teakettles, security blankets, breasts, and once, a guy’s penis (it was not erect).
And one time, in Santa Barbara, Brian signed a girl’s anus.
Everyone was impressed.
I asked him to please throw that particular Sharpie in the trash.
- The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer, pg. 101
The old man is… If your principal and your sternest grandparent had a child born on the last day of summer before school starts, and that child grows up in the moment you realise you’ve been caught filching a cookie from the jar. In other words, he exists simply to remind you of all the bad things you’ve ever done, all the things you’ve ever failed at and all the mistakes you will ever make.
“Thou art Christian?” Pan pronounced the word with such contempt that the flock stopped dancing and glared at Alobar, the bees buzzed angrily at him, and a passing butterfly shat upon him with remarkable accuracy.
- Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins, pg. 48
It is to erase the fixed smiles of sleeping couples that Satan trained roosters to crow at five in the morning.
- Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins, pg. 34
(Claude and Marcel LeFever were speaking French. This simultaneous English translation is being beamed to the reader via literary satellite.)
- Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins, pg. 11
The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes and undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious.
- Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins, pg. 1 (first sentences of the book)
‘Go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut’, murmured Paul Lazzaro in his azure nest. ‘Go take a flying fuck at the moon’.
- Slaughterhouse-5 by Kurt Vonnegut, pg. 121
Rosewater had a tremendous collection of science-fiction paperbacks under his bed. He had brought them to the hospital in a steamer trunk. Those beloved, frumpish books gave off a smell that permeated the ward – like flannel pajamas that hadn’t been changed for a month, or like Irish stew.
- Slaughterhouse-5 by Kurt Vonnegut, pg. 82
The dog, who had sounded so ferocious in the winter distances, was a female German shepherd. She was shivering. Her tail was between her legs. She had been borrowed that morning from a farmer. She had never been to war before. She had no idea what game was being played. Her name was Princess.
- Slaughterhouse-5 by Kurt Vonnegut, pg. 43