Kurt Vonnegut Quotes
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What do I myself think of this particular book? I feel lousy about it, but I always feel lousy about my books.
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Napalm came from Harvard. Veritas!
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People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.
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When I'm being funny, I try not to offend. I don't think much of what I've done has been in really ghastly taste. I don't think I have embarrassed many people or distressed them.
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Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?
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Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before.
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There is no reason why good cannot triumph as often as evil. The triumph of anything is a matter of organization. If there are such things as angels, I hope that they are organized along the lines of the Mafia.
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Old Norwegian Proverb: Swedes have short dicks but long memories.
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Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.
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People hate it when they're tickled because laughter is not pleasant, if it goes on too long. I think it's a desperate sort of convulsion in desperate circumstances, which helps a little.
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If you can do no good, at least do no harm.
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Peculiar Travel Suggestions are Dancing Lessons From God
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Charm was a scheme for making strangers like and trust a person immediately, no matter what the charmer had in mind.
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The new heroism - put a village idiot into a pressure cooker, seal it up tight, and shoot him at the moon.
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Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.
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Is it possible that seemingly incredible geniuses like Bach and Shakespeare and Einstein were not in fact superhuman, but simply plagiarists, copying great stuff from the future?
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It may be that the most striking thing about members of my literary generation in retrospect will be that we were allowed to say absolutely anything without fear of punishment.
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There is a riddle about a man who is locked in a room with nothing but a bed and a calendar, and the question is: How does he survive?The answer is: He eats dates from the calendar and drinks water from the springs of the bed.
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I really wonder what gives us the right to wreck this poor planet of ours.
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If you want to take my guns away from me, and you’re all for murdering fetuses, and love it when homosexuals marry each other, and want to give them kitchen appliances at their showers, and you’re for the poor, you’re a liberal. If you are against those perversions and for the rich, you’re a conservative. What could be simpler?
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What is literature but an insider's newsletter about affairs relating to molecules, of no importance to anything in the Universe but a few molecules who have the disease called 'thought'.
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Mankind, ignorant of the truths that lie withing every human being, looked outward-pushed ever outward. What mankind hoped to learn in its outward push was who was actually in charge of all creation, and what all creation was all about.
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Like most science-fiction writers, Trout knew almost nothing about science.
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'You go up to a man, and you say, ‘How are things going, Joe?’ And he says, ‘Oh fine, fine-couldn’t be better.’ And you look into his eyes, and you see things really couldn’t be much worse. When you get right down to it, everybody’s having a perfectly lousy time of it, and I mean everybody. And the hell of it is, nothing seems to help much.'