“All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds.”
“I didn’t know the full dimensions of forever, but I knew it was longer than waiting for Christmas to come.”
“I don’t want my daughter to be educated. I think women should just be decorative.”
“I’ll think about things for thirty or forty years before I’ll write it.”
“I’m in a constant process of thinking about things.”
“It’s strange how the simple things in life go on while we become more difficult.”
“Probably the closest things to perfection are the huge absolutely empty holes that astronomers have recently discovered in space. If there’s nothing there, how can anything go wrong?”
“The sun was like a huge 50-cent piece that someone had poured kerosene on and then had lit with a match, and said, “Here, hold this while I go get a newspaper,” and put the coin in my hand, but never came back.”
“If you get hung up on everybody else’s hang-ups, then the whole world’s going to be nothing more than one huge gallows.”
“I like to think (it has to be!) of a cybernetic ecology where we are free of our labors and joined back to nature, returned to our mammal brothers and sisters, and all watched over by machines of loving grace.”
“Everybody wants to go to bed with everybody else, they’re lined up for blocks, so I’ll go to bed with you. They won’t miss us.”
“Thinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two transfers before discovering that I was alone.”
“If a girl likes me a lot and starts getting real nervous and suddenly begins asking me funny questions and looks sad if I give the wrong answers and she says things like, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” and I say, “It beats me,” and she says, “Oh,” and looks a little sad at the clear blue California sky, I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time. Instead of me.”
“Everything smelled of sheep. The dandelions were suddenly more sheep than flower, each petal reflecting wool and the sound of a bell ringing off the yellow. But the thing that smelled the most like sheep, was the sun itself. When the sun went behind a cloud, the smell of sheep decreased, like standing on some old guy’s hearing aid, and when the sun came back again, the smell of the sheep was loud, like a clap of thunder inside a cup of coffee.”
Guy Bloke 