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1 " What the hell is that?" I laughed." It's my fox hat." " Your fox hat?" " Yeah, Pudge. My fox hat." " Why are you wearing your fox hat?" I asked." Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox. "
2 " If someone had asked him about his dreams on the morning of the barbecue, he would have said that he didn't want for much, but he wouldn't mind a lower mortgage, a tidier house, another baby - ideally a son, but he'd take another girl no problem at all - a big motherfucking boat if it were up for grabs, and more sex. He would have laughed about the sex. Or smiled at least. A rueful smile. Maybe the smile would have been exactly halfway between rueful and bitter. "
― Liane Moriarty , Truly Madly Guilty
3 " The Babar the Elephant book is sitting in front of me. I pick it up and start reading it. I remember reading it as a small Boy and enjoying it and imagining that I was friends with Babar, his constant Companion during all of his adventures. He went to the moon, I went with him. He fought Tomb Raiders in Egypt, I fought alongside him. He rescued his elephant girlfriend from Ivory Hunters on the Savanna, I coordinated the getaway. I loved that goddamn Elephant and I loved being his friend. In a childhood full of unhappiness and rage, Babar is one of the few pleasant memories that I have. Me and Babar, kicking some motherfucking ass. "
― James Frey
4 " Certain motherfuckers think they can fuck with my shit, but you can't kill the Rooster. You might can fuck him up some times, but, bitch, nobody kills the motherfucking Rooster. You know what I'm saying? "
― David Sedaris , Me Talk Pretty One Day
5 " I cried and I cried and I cried. I wasn't crying because I was happy. I wasn't crying because I was sad. I wasn't crying because of my mother or my father or Paul. I was crying because I was full...I didn't feel like a big fate idiot anymore. And I didn't feel like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen. I felt fierce and humble and gathered up inside, like I was safe in this world too. "
― Cheryl Strayed , Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
6 " God, you had enough time to have been through it three times. You've been through my stuff. I bet you over and let one of you stick the world's longest finger up my ass. If a prostate check is an exam, that was a motherfucking safari. I was scared to look down. I thought I'd see that guy's finger nail sticking out of my cock. "
7 " Then she called Matthew.He answered, " Where the fuck are you? I've been calling you for hours." She said, " I was asleep. Just woke up. What's the problem?" " Don't tell me you're still in your hotel room in your bed." " Didn't I say I just woke up? Still in bed. Needed some sleep. Just waking up. . . ." " Is that right?" . . . " Where are you right now?" " Antigua motherfucking Yacht Club. Room twenty-fucking-nine. Sitting on a . . . four-poster bed that has a damn mosquito net pulled back so I know I can see what the fuck I see. And I see an empty four-poster bed . . . But hell, maybe I'm wrong, because I know I didn't marry a goddamn liar. So I guess if I'm in your room and you're in the goddamn bed, just waking up, then either I am as blind as a fucking bat or you must be fucking invisible. "
8 " Don't be such a crybaby. The fucking world ended. Everyone's mother is dead, you pussy. Besides... we're on our way to talk to the people who cut you mom's head off... have some motherfucking perspective. "
― Robert Kirkman , Call to Arms (The Walking Dead, #26)
9 " Don't think about the writing process too much. Just do one thing: tell the motherfucking story. "
― Don Roff
10 " FLETCHER: The truth is I don’t think people understand what it is I did at Shaffer. I wasn’t there to conduct. Any idiot can move his hands and keep people in tempo. No, it’s about pushing people beyond what’s expected of them. And I believe that is a necessity. Because without it you’re depriving the world of its next Armstrong. Its next Parker. Why did Charlie Parker become Charlie Parker, Andrew? ANDREW: Because Jo Jones threw a cymbal at him.FLETCHER: Exactly. Young kid, pretty good on the sax, goes up to play his solo in a cutting session, fucks up -- and Jones comes this close to slicing his head off for it. He’s laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night. But the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And practices and practices. With one goal in mind: that he never ever be laughed off-stage again. A year later he goes back to the Reno, and he plays the best motherfucking solo the world had ever heard. Now imagine if Jones had just patted young Charlie on the head and said “Good job.” Charlie would’ve said to himself, “Well, shit, I did do a good job,” and that’d be that. No Bird. Tragedy, right? Except that’s just what people today want. The Shaffer Conservatories of the world, they want sugar. You don’t even say “cutting session” anymore, do you? No, you say “jam session”. What the fuck kind of word is that? Jam session? It’s a cutting session, Andrew, this isn’t fucking Smucker’s. It’s about weeding out the best from the worst so that the worst become better than the best. I mean look around you. $25 drinks, mood lighting, a little shrimp cocktail to go with your Coltrane. And people wonder why jazz is dying. Take it from me, and every Starbucks jazz album only proves my point. There are no two words more harmful in the entire English language than “good job”. "
11 " She came towards me with a juicy gash between her legs that smelled like my best friend's sister" Just when I thought I'd escaped them allShe comes reeling herself inpulling at my stringsher hand quick to find my zipperShe moaned the way a drunk old lady doesAnd I wasn't even inside her yet" You don't have anywhere else to be," she managed to say..." My wounds have been reopened tonight already," I mutteredI caught wind of the gully ...the part of her she once kept sacred as a ChristianI smelled the informationI lifted my hand into the air and hailed a cabHe rolled down his window and saw her" Find another cab," he said, and sped off into the nightI took her homebecause she said she was lonelyreally she was drunk off somethingsome memory or some choiceshe walked funny... -one of her heels had brokenOn the couch I left her,Before I could go, she grabbed my cockI slapped her across the face and she pulled harderHer eyes stayed closedHer lips dripped Her grip clenched I wasn't getting out of this one unscathed" If I take my pants off, will you let me go?" I asked" If you take your pants off, I'll be suckin' that cock till you pass out from all the screamin'..." I slapped her again, because she needed itShe laughedSaying her cousin beat her harderSaying her father knew how to really... ...make things happenI asked her what her father's number wasLet's get his motherfucking self up here to take you away, that's what I saidShe said he died, or killed himself" What's the difference really," she said, chewing on her hairShe let go of my cock on her own accordAnd she opened her eyes for a momentShe closed them againAnd I could tell she was sleepingHer eyes opened once moreHer face red where I'd hit herShe tasted the blood on her lip" Do you think if we remind ourselves enough, we can make up for all the pain we've caused others?" I said to her, " We can't. All we can do is keep ourselves from all those who don't deserve it. "
12 " Y'all think a body be who you is, but it ain't nothing but a motherfucking sack of meat. "
― James Hannaham , Delicious Foods
13 " But on that night as I gazed out over the darkening land fifty-some nights out on the PCT, it occurred to me that I didn't have to be amazed by him anymore.There were so many other amazing things in this world.They opened up inside of me like a river. Like I didn't know I could take a breath and then I breathed. I laughed with the joy of it, and the next moment i was crying my first tears on the PCT. I cried and I cried and I cried. I wasn't crying because I was happy. I wasn't crying because I was sad. I wasn't crying because of my mother or my father or Paul. I was crying because I was full. Of those fifty-some hard days on the trail and of the 9,760 days that had come before them too.I was entering. I was leaving. California streamed behind me like a long silk veil. I didn't feel like a big fat idiot anymore. And I didn't feel like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen. I felt fierce and humble and gathered up inside, like I was safe in this world too. "
