Christopher Moore

“He preferred to not think of his mother as having hips. He preferred to not think of her as a woman at all, more as a traveling mass of loving annoyance - a mother-shaped storm that inhabited the bakery and, in bringing rain for the growth of the living things over which she hovered, didn't mind scaring the piss out of them with a few thunderbolts from time to time.”

“The Colorman slid off the morgue slab to the cold floor. Bullets pooped from his wounds and plopped on the stone as he limped naked around the room looking for something to wear. All the dead were either naked, too ripe, or too tall for him to use their clothes, so he settled on a white mortician's coat that trailed out behind him as he went. The morgue attendant pretended not to see him as he passed, figuring that a spontaneous reanimation would require paperwork that he did not wish to fill out.”

“One Monday, just for sport, Charlie grabbed an eggplant that a spectacularly wizened granny was going for, but instead of twisting it out of his hand with some mystic kung fu move as he expected, she looked him in the eye and shook her head - just a jog, barely perceptible really - it might have been a tic, but it was the most eloquent of gestures. Charlie read it as saying: O White Devil, you do not want to purloin that purple fruit, for I have four thousand years of ancestors and civilization on you; my grandparents built the railroads and dug the silver mines, and my parents survived the earthquake, the fire, and a society that outlawed even being Chinese; I am mother to a dozen, grandmother to a hundred, and great-grandmother to a legion; I have birthed babies and washed the dead; I am history and suffering and wisdom; I am a Buddha and a dragon; so get your fucking hand off my eggplant before you lose it.”

“It was a machine-gun orgasm, dark chocolate, spring water in the desert, a hallelujah chorus and the cavelry coming to the rescue all at once.”

“I think this is a bodhi tree,” I said, “just like Buddha sat under! It’s so exciting. I’m feeling sort of enlightened just standing here. Really, I can feel ripe bodhies squishing between my toes.” Joshua looked at my feet. “I don’t think those are bodhies. There was a cow here before us.” I lifted my foot out of the mess. “Cows are overrated in this country. Under the Buddha’s tree too. Is nothing sacred?”

“Joshua and I tried to engage Joy in conversation several times during the journey to Kabul, but she was cranky and abrupt and often just rode away from us. “Probably depressed that she’s not torturing me,” I speculated. “I can see how that might bring her down,” said Joshua. “Maybe if you could get your camel to bite you. I know that always brightens my mood.” I rode on ahead without another word. It’s wildly irritating to have invented something as revolutionary as sarcasm, only to have it abused by amateurs.”

“The Painting is not shit,' said Lucien.'I know,' said Henri. 'That was just part of the subterfuge. I am of royal lineage; subterfuge is one of the many talents we carry in our blood, along with guile and hemophilia.”

“So I'm like getting some perspective now - like when you're a kid and you think it sucks that you have to eat hydrogenated peanut butter on your PBJ, and then you see one of those starving commercials kids with flies in their eyes, who don't even have a sandwich - and you're all, 'Well, that sucks.”

“Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead.' Then she called him a name in a dead language that translated, roughly, to 'poop on a stick,' but sounded more succinct, like this: 'Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead, Poopstick.”

“I like a girl with a substantial bottom,' said Renoir, drawing in the air the size bottom he preferred.”

“Whistler,' Manet called. 'How's your mother?”

“What do you want?""Spain""Fuck!”

“Fine, fuck it," Clay said, tossing the plate into the yard. The chicken parts bounced nicely, breading themselves with a light coating of sand, ants, and dried grass. "When did chicken become like plutonium anyway, for Christ's sake? You can't let it touch you or it's certain fucking death. And eggs and hamburgers kill you unless you cook them to the consistency of limestone! And if you turn on your fucking cell phone, the plane is going to plunge out of the sky in a ball of flames? And kids can't take a dump anymore but they have to have a helmet and pads on make them look like the Road Warrior. Right? Right? What the fuck happened to the world? When did everything get so goddamn deadly? Huh? I've been going to sea for thirty damned years, and nothing's killed me. I've swum with everything that can bite, sting, or eat you, and I've done every stupid thing at depth that any human can -- and I'm still alive. Fuck, Clair, I was unconscious for an hour underwater less than a week ago, and it didn't kill me. Now you're going to tell me that I'm going to get whacked by a fucking chicken leg? Well, just fuck it then!”

“Everyone at the bar turned toward The Breeze and waited, as if the next few words he spoke would reveal the true meaning of life, the winning numbers of the lottery, and the unlisted phone number of God.”

“In Breeze’s business one got used to running across the skeletons in people’s closets. If Billy’s skeleton wore women’s underwear, it didn’t really matter. Homosexuality on Billy Winston was like acne on a leper.”

“She was twentysix and pretty in a way that made men want to tuck her into flannel sheets and kiss her on the forehead before leaving the room; cute but not beautiful.”

“She hugged me and I could feel the heat rise in my face, either from shame or love, like there was a difference.”

“You cannot believe what you do not believe, Rumi siad. I am an Untouchable because my karma dictates it.”

“Oh my God, you're like Obnoxious and Annoying had an ass baby!”

“Little-boy love...the cleanest pain I've ever known. Love without desire, conditions, or limits - a pure and radiant glow in the heart that could make me giddy and sad and glorious all at once. Where does it go? Why, in all their experiments, did the Magi never try to capture that purity in a bottle? Perhaps they couldn't.”

“An embrace from him left scratches on my back that sometimes wept blood, yet my brothers and I fought to be the first in his arms when he returned from work each evening. The same injuries inflicted in anger would have sent us crying to our mother's skirts. I fell asleep each night feeling his hand on my back like a shield.Fathers.”

“Splendid. I believe we've achieved a whole new level of doomed.”

“My name," said Mr. Fresh."Pardon?" Charlie stopped tying himself up."I dress in mint green because of my first name. It's Minty."Charlie completely forgot what he was worried about. "Minty? Your name is Minty Fresh?"Charlie appeared to be trying to stifle a sneeze, but then snorted an explosive laugh. Then ducked.”

“She have to go pick up prescription, so I watch Sophie for short time. And tiny bears are happy when I go in bathroom.""Hamsters, Mrs. Korjev, not bears." .... "I've got her now," Charlie said. "One of you stay with her while I get rid of the H-A-M-S-T-E-R-S.""He mean the tiny bears.”

“At the pet store he picked out two painted turtles, each about as big around as a mayonnaise-jar lid. He bought them a large kidney shaped dish that had its own little island, a plastic palm tree, some aquatic plants, and a snail. The snail, presumably, to bolster the self-esteem of the turtles: "You think we're slow? Look at that guy." To store up the snail's morale in the same way, there was a rock.”

“Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone's ass? Is "ho" always feminine and "muthafucka" always masculine, while "bitch" can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and phat to be da bomb or can I just be "stupid"?”

“Angels are just pretty insects.”

“In another Christmas story, Dale Pearson, evil developer, self-absorbed woman hater, and seemingly unredeemable curmudgeon, might be visited in the night by a series of ghosts who, by showing him bleak visions of Christmas future, past, and present, would bring about in him a change to generosity, kindness, and a general warmth toward his fellow man. But this is not that kind of Christmas story, so here, in not too many pages, someone is going to dispatch the miserable son of a bitch with a shovel. That's the spirit of Christmas yet to come in these parts. Ho, ho, ho.”

“Hope is merely another face of desire.”

“He always had a problem with the purity of others. Never his own.”

“Yeah, and don't think it's easy finding Ray-Bans in a fruit-bat medium.”

“Dovevi comportati bene con il prossimo, anche con i leccapiedi. E se:a) Credevi che Gesù fosse il Figlio di Diob) Credevi che fosse venuto a salvarti dal peccatoc) Riconoscevi la presenza dello Spirito Santo dentro di te (tornavi bambino, diceva lui)d) Non bestemmiavi contro il suddetto Spirito (vedi c)Allora:e) Avresti vissuto in eternof) In un posto fichissimog) Probabilmente in paradisoSe inveceh) Peccavi (e/o) i) Ti comportavi da ipocrita (e/o)j) Davi più importanza alle cose che alle persone (e/o)k) Non facevi quanto elencato ai punti a, b, c, dEri semplicementel) fottuto”

“Does the work get easier once you know what you are doing?""Your lungs grow thick with stone dust and your eyes bleary from the sun and fragments thrown up by the chisel. You pour your lifeblood out into works of stone for Romans who will take your money in taxes to feed soldiers who will nail your people to crosses for wanting to be free. Your back breaks, your bones creak, your wife screeches at you, and your children torment you with open begging mouths, like greedy baby birds in the nest. You go to bed every night so tired and beaten that you pray to the Lord to send the angel of death to take you in your sleep so you don't have to face another morning. It also has its downside.”

“People always stay the age that they died at. My big brother died of leukemia when I was six. He was eight. Now when I think of him, he's always eight, and he's still my big brother. He never changes, and the part of me that remembers him never changes.”

“A woman’s magazine quiz:Question: You decide to do the dread deed and just as things are starting to get hot he comes, rolls over, and asks, “Was it good for you?”You:a. Say, “God, yes! That was the best seventeen seconds of my life”b. Say, “Sure, as good as it gets for me with a man.”c. Put a Certs in your navel and say, “That’s for you, Mr. Bunnyman. You can have it on your way back up, after the job is finished”

“Abençoados sejam os submissos, pois a eles diremos "Lindos meninos".”

“Para ser honesto era muito raro ferver, mas gostava do som da expressão "fervoroso pagão" e creio que seria um nome fantástico para uma banda de rock cristã.”

“- Ah, já entendi - disse eu. - É uma parábola. Que giro. Vamos comer.”

“Ninguém é perfeito... Ou por outra, este tipo era mas nós matámo-lo.”

“I try to stick to one, single rule, “If you don’t have anything to say, shut the fuck up.” I think that’s in the Bible or something.”

“Era il suono di mille bambini affamati che piangevano, di diecimila vedove che si strappavano i capelli sulle tombe dei mariti, un coro di angeli che intonava l’ultimo lamento nel giorno della morte di dio”

“Children see magic because they look for it.”

“Ack! Parables. I hate parables.”

“Lonliness evaporated off of them like the steam off dry ice, and by morning it was just a cloud on the ceiling of the room, then gone with the light. ”

“Only by being prepared for your death can you ever truly live. ”

“One of them hissed-not the hiss of a cat, a long, steady tone-more like the hiss of air escaping the rubber raft that is all that lies between you and a dark sea full of sharks, the hiss of your life leaking out at the seams. ”

“In fact, he sorely hoped that it would happen, because otherwise, the world made no sense, there was no justice, and life was just a tangled ball of chaos.”

“The medium obscured the message.”

“Routine feeds the illusion of safety...”

“That's the scary thing about hope," she said. "If you let it go too long it turns into faith.”