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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You were sick, but now you're well, and there's work to do.
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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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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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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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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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People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.
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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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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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If you can do no good, at least do no harm.
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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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Old Norwegian Proverb: Swedes have short dicks but long memories.
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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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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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Peculiar Travel Suggestions are Dancing Lessons From God
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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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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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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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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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I really wonder what gives us the right to wreck this poor planet of ours.
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Like most science-fiction writers, Trout knew almost nothing about science.
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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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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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Here’s what I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial, about to face cold turkey. And like so many addicts about to face cold turkey, our leaders are now committing violent crimes to get what little is left of what we’re hooked on.