Baton Rouge Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Baton Rouge. Here they are! All 60 of them:

The only excursion of my life outside of New Orleans took me through the vortex to the whirlpool of despair: Baton Rouge. . . . New Orleans is, on the other hand, a comfortable metropolis which has a certain apathy and stagnation which I find inoffensive.
John Kennedy Toole (A Confederacy of Dunces)
The finest line of poetry ever uttered in the history of this whole damn country was said by Canada Bill Jones in 1853, in Baton Rouge, while he was being robbed blind in a crooked game of faro. George Devol, who was, like Canada Bill, not a man who was averse to fleecing the odd sucker, drew Bill aside and asked him if he couldn't see that the game was crooked. And Canada Bill sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, and said, 'I know. But it's the only game in town.' And he went back to the game.
Neil Gaiman (American Gods)
Speeding along in that bus was like hurtling into the abyss. By the time we had left the swamps and reached those rolling hills near Baton Rouge, I was getting afraid that some rural rednecks might toss bombs at the bus. They love to attack vehicles, which are a symbol of progress, I guess.
John Kennedy Toole (A Confederacy of Dunces)
Ghetto Haikus Friendship needs just two. Hot relationships needs three. But bitches can't count. Nigga don't need no cherry blossoms to haiku. Dis niggaz got skillz. Any of yoos seen Moesha or Latesha? Bitches owe me cash. Obama's whiter than Spring laundry day at Duke's house in Baton Rouge.
Beryl Dov
Only a few days after my encounter with the police, two patrolmen tackled Alton Sterling onto a car, then pinned him down on the ground and shot him in the chest while he was selling CDs in front of a convenience store, seventy-five miles up the road in Baton Rouge. A day after that, Philando Castile was shot in the passenger seat of his car during a police traffic stop in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, as his girlfriend recorded the aftermath via Facebook Live. Then, the day after Castile was killed, five policemen were shot dead by a sniper in Dallas. It felt as if the world was subsumed by cascades of unceasing despair. I mourned for the family and friends of Sterling and Castille. I felt deep sympathy for the families of the policemen who died. I also felt a real fear that, as a result of what took place in Dallas, law enforcement would become more deeply entrenched in their biases against black men, leading to the possibility of even more violence. The stream of names of those who have been killed at the hands of the police feels endless, and I become overwhelmed when I consider all the names we do not know—all of those who lost their lives and had no camera there to capture it, nothing to corroborate police reports that named them as threats. Closed cases. I watch the collective mourning transpire across my social-media feeds. I watch as people declare that they cannot get out of bed, cannot bear to go to work, cannot function as a human being is meant to function. This sense of anxiety is something I have become unsettlingly accustomed to. The familiar knot in my stomach. The tightness in my chest. But becoming accustomed to something does not mean that it does not take a toll. Systemic racism always takes a toll, whether it be by bullet or by blood clot.
Clint Smith
I am told that the amount of rain that fell on Pensacola that day was so uncommon that events like it are statistically supposed to occur only once every five hundred years. Eight hundred and forty days later, the intense precipitation that drowned Baton Rouge was dubbed a thousand-year storm. And a year after that, Houston was inundated during a thousand-year hurricane. In a little more than three years, residents of the Gulf Coast have seen millennia’s worth of ruinous water.
Elizabeth Rush (Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore)
You know,” says the man in the light gray suit, when his drink arrives, “the finest line of poetry ever uttered in the history of this whole damn country was said by Canada Bill Jones in 1853, in Baton Rouge, while he was being robbed blind in a crooked game of faro. George Devol, who was, like Canada Bill, not a man who was averse to fleecing the odd sucker, drew Bill aside and asked him if he couldn’t see that the game was crooked. And Canada Bill sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, and said, ‘I know. But it’s the only game in town.
Neil Gaiman (American Gods)
The baking wind tore at his hat and he held it by the brim with one hand. It relieved him to look at it, for the great river was like a long tale, of both great joy and great woe. And it seemed to be a story road that a person could take, and it would take him to some place where he could free his mind. Men had striven against one another to control the unreeling river-road, battling at New Madrid and Island Number Ten, at Baton Rouge and Vicksburg, in the heat of the summer and the humid choking air of the malarial swamps. But the river carried away men and guns and the garbage of war, covering it over, washing itself clean again as if they had never been.
Paulette Jiles (Enemy Women)
Descendants of people enslaved at the Whitney still live in the areas surrounding the former plantation. A few now work at the Whitney—ranging from a director-level position to tour guides to the front desk. But much of the community still suffers from the intergenerational poverty that plagues many formerly enslaved communities more than a century and a half after emancipation. Poverty is common in Wallace, Louisiana, the area encompassing the Whitney, where over 90 percent of the population is Black. Wallace is also one of a series of majority-Black communities lining the Mississippi River from Baton Rouge to New Orleans that—as a result of their proximity to petrochemical plants—form what is known as Cancer Alley. Neighborhoods here have some of the highest cancer risks in the country, and chemical emissions from these plants are linked to cardiovascular, respiratory, and developmental ailments. Civil rights leader Reverend Dr. William J. Barber II put it this way when describing the landscape of factories and refineries along the Mississippi River: “The same land that held people captive through slavery is now holding people captive through this environmental injustice and devastation.
Clint Smith (How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America)
In neighboring Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Governor Kathleen Blanco advised residents to “write their Social Security numbers on their arms in indelible ink” so that the medical examiner could identify their dead bodies after they were found drowned by floodwaters in their homes or bludgeoned to death by debris sailing on deadly winds. But then she and other officials seemed completely unprepared for the mass panic that ensued.
Matt Mogk (Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Zombies)
Amber was shocked and amazed, in this day and age, people could still think like this. The crowd around her was screaming insults and threats, but she wanted them to shut up so she could hear what crazy thoughts were issuing from the mouths of the Ku Klux Klan members standing on the Baton Rouge Capitol Building steps. She’d read on Yahoo this was the first Klan rally in the Louisiana state capital since 1969. Only hours ago they’d won a court hearing about freedom of speech and were now allowed to talk for two hours, before a crowd of mostly hostile people.
Stuart Conover (State of Horror: Louisiana Volume II (State of Horror Series))
I said, “Was it Amy?” “If it was, she was too smart for them, which is what drew their attention.” Pike said, “They couldn’t ID the source.” “Meaning what?” Jon smirked. “Meaning the crap on these boards is usually posted by a crank in a garage, or a thirteen-year-old idiot, toked up on the big sister’s weed. Thirteen-year-old idiots are easy to find. This computer was hidden behind anonymous proxies, virtual networks, and spoofed identity numbers. One post looked like it came from Paris, the next from Birmingham, another from Baton Rouge. Each post appeared to be written on a different computer, only none of the computers actually existed.” I
Robert Crais (The Promise (Elvis Cole, #16; Joe Pike, #5; Scott James & Maggie, #2))
At the beginning of that same summer, in 1989, all of our crepe myrtles shed. This is not uncommon. Gluttons for the heat, these trees line all the major roads and boulevards of East Baton Rouge Parish. You can cut them down to nothing each year if you like. They are unbothered. This is their home, and our Junes are filled with pink, red, and purple flowers because of it. During this time, however, when they are in full bloom, long shards of bark peel off their trunks. They lie in circles upon the roots like skins.
M.O. Walsh (My Sunshine Away)
Obama Haiku Obama's whiter than Spring laundry day at Dukes' house in Baton Rouge.
Beryl Dov
At the elementary level alone, for example, the East Baton Rouge parish spent $67.79 per capita on white children while doling out a mere third of that for each African American student. Orleans parish spent $103.65 on each white elementary school student and $66.76 on each black student. East Feliciana Parish, thirty miles north of Baton Rouge, had a per capita allocation of $121.64 for whites in kindergarten through sixth grades and a paltry $18.92 for each black child in those grades. Overall, Louisiana spent $76.34 per white elementary school child and only $23.99 for each African American one.
Carol Anderson (White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide)
From Baton Rouge to New Orleans, the great sugarcane plantations border both sides of the river all the way . . . standing so close together, for long distances,” Mark Twain wrote in Life on the Mississippi, “that the broad river lying between the two rows, becomes a sort of spacious street.” Along the seventy-mile strip, some four hundred graceful mansions, with two- or three-story white Grecian pillars, oak-canopied walkways, manicured gardens and ponds, are the ancient castles of America. They were built with profits from cotton. The new cotton is oil, but the plantation culture continues.
Arlie Russell Hochschild (Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right)
At the bluff above the river, which Iberville considered a good spot for a settlement, he saw a red stick, the maypole used by the Indians for hanging up offerings of fish and game. Iberville called the place Baton Rouge.
Joan B. Garvey (Beautiful Crescent: A History of New Orleans)
lit white tanks of oil refineries and petrochemical plants. “Well,” said Giordino without any particular expression in his voice, “is now a good time for a chorus of ‘Old Man River’?” “The Mississippi,” Pitt muttered. “That’s Baton Rouge to the north across the river. The end of the line. Why dig a canal to this particular spot?” “Who knows what weird machinations lurk in the mind of Qin Shang?” Giordino said philosophically. “Maybe he has plans to access the highway.” “What for? There’s no turnoff. The road shoulder is barely wide enough to hold one car.
Clive Cussler (Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt, #14))
A muddy river is a muddy river, whether it's in Bengal or in Baton Rouge.
Mitali Perkins (You Bring the Distant Near)
I have been with them a great deal,” he wrote from Louisiana, “and never before saw so much of gloom, despondency, and listlessness. I saw no banjo, heard none but solemn songs. In church or on the street they impress me with a great sadness. They are a sombre, not a happy, race.” Several weeks later, when his regiment was encamped near Baton Rouge, he attended a black religious service and described the “mingled excitement and devotion,” the shouting, the clapping of hands, the jumping, the often wild and excited singing. It all impressed him, however, as “a mournful joy,” and the hymns seemed “more a loud wail than a burst of joyous melody.
Leon F. Litwack (Been in the Storm So Long: The Aftermath of Slavery)
After meeting Hitler on July 25 in Bayreuth, Spengler was reported to have remarked, “When one sits across from him, one does not have even one single time the feeling that he is significant.” John Farrenkopf, Prophet of Decline: Spengler on World History and Politics (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2001), pg. 237.
Matthew Rose (A World after Liberalism: Five Thinkers Who Inspired the Radical Right)
For the best bounce house and water slide rentals in Baton Rouge, Greyson's Events & Entertainment has you covered. We have inflatables of all types, including: water slides, bounce houses, combos, mechanical bulls, rock climbing walls, interactives, and games. We also have concessions like popcorn, and cotton candy machines. Party accessories like garbage cans, tables and chairs, generators, etc. Give us a call or reserve on-line and we promise a great all around experience.
Greysons Events and Entertainment
Epoxy paint has been gaining in popularity in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the rest of the country. We're excited to share years of experience with you. Our family-owned and operated concrete epoxy business has been a part of Baton Rouge for over a decade. We continue to prove ourselves to homeowners and business owners alike throughout the city. We're reliable, professional, and remain on the cutting edge in regards to products and techniques.
Epoxy Flooring Baton Rouge
Hall, Gwendolyn Midlo. Louisiana Slave Database 1719–1820, in Gwendolyn Midlo Hall, ed., Afro-Louisiana History and Genealogy, 1699–1860. CD-ROM. Baton Rouge: Louisiana University Press, 2000.
Daniel Rasmussen (American Uprising: The Untold Story of America's Largest Slave Revolt)
I generally start the conversation immediately, that way the person wanting a book signed never has to say the things they’ve stood in line agonizing over, and that they will most likely regret later on. There are exceptions, though. I was in Baton Rouge in late May 2013, when a woman approached, saying, before I had a chance to throw her off balance, “You got me to put my bra back on.” I set down my pen. “I beg your pardon?
David Sedaris (Themes and Variations)
Lloyd Leonards MD Baton Rouge La is a physician and an entrepreneur with years of experience from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He has spent time in Guatemala doing mission work and also worked at several hospitals, including the Prairieville Family hospital. Lloyd Leonards MD Baton Rouge La is also launching an hyperbarics program geared toward athletes in the area.
Lloyd Leonards MD Baton Rouge LA
Vitam Immortalem.
Roxie Ray (Taken by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #1))
Fais de beau rêves, mon ange,
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Only the worthy deserve a true mate, Your Majesty. Keep her out of the shadows.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Never forgotten.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
La Petite Mort…
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Perfectly. Your well-being is all I need.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Like the undead.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Revered by the Ancient Greeks as a symbol of fertility and love.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
I’ve got you,” he murmured. “And we’re all alone. I won’t ever share you. Not like this.” He pressed wet kisses to my neck. “I’ll worship you.” Then to my collarbone. “Revere you.” The swell of my breast. “Respect you.” He drew my bra away. “Love you.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
I’d never wanted this deeply, this completely—like Nic was something I’d always been missing. Like he’d come home. We were home.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
You smell amazing. I want you so badly. Like nothing ever before.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Always yours.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Lose control, Nic. Take me, claim me… I’m yours.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
But you definitely smell attractive,” Aimée said. “You smell of power and control and rule and authority. Your scent is all Nicky. There’s no mistaking who you belong to, which means everyone immediately knows Nicky’s vulnerability. You.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
My call?” I laughed, a bark of surprise. “Leia’s like my own personal siren. I’m powerless to resist.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Exactly. The depths of that were perhaps…unexpected. But I predicted great love,
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Thralls?
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
s’il te plaît.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Mais oui, ma chèrie.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
But only because your heart is pure.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Dead man’s blood
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
She’s the bright flame that tempts me.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Réveille-toi, ma petite,
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Forgive me,
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Never before,
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
Only you.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
A fleur-de-lis. A family crest, maybe, and words in Latin. Ego Solus.
Roxie Ray (Stolen by the Vampire King (Baton Rouge Vampire, #2))
When my husband and I went into the bayou between New Orleans and Baton Rouge for a week of intensive marriage counseling after I started burning myself. My parents paid for it and kept the baby. It didn't work but we did have anal sex and the woman counselor gave me a recipe for oatmeal blueberry pancakes that I still make.
Merritt Tierce (Love Me Back)
What is this strange, frightening letter that you have written me, Ignatius? How can I contact the Civil Liberties Union with the little evidence that you have given me? I can't imagine why a policeman would try to arrest you. You stay in your room all the time. I might have believed the arrest if you hadn't written about that "automobile accident." If both of your wrists were broken, how could you write me a letter? Let us be honest with each other, Ignatius. I do not believe a word of what I read. But I am frightened— for you. The fantasy about the arrest has all the classic paranoid qualities. You are aware, of course, that Freud linked paranoia with homosexual tendencies. "Filth!" Ignatius shouted. However, we won't go into that aspect of the fantasy because I know how dedicated you are in your opposition to sex of any sort. Still your emotional problem is very apparent. Since you flunked that interview for the teaching job in Baton Rouge (meanwhile blaming it on the bus and things— a transferral of guilt), you have probably suffered feelings of failure. This "automobile accident" is a new crutch to help you make excuses for your meaningless, impotent existence. Ignatius, you must identify with something. As I've told you time and again, you must commit yourself to the crucial problems of the times. "Ho hum," Ignatius yawned. Subconsciously you feel that you must attempt to explain away your failure, as an intellectual and soldier of ideas, to actively participate in critical social movements. Also, a satisfying sexual encounter would purify your mind and body. You need the therapy of sex desperately. I'm afraid—from what I know about clinical cases like yours— that you may end up a psychosomatic invalid like Elizabeth B. Browning.
Anonymous
BATON ROUGE SHERIFF Emo Pike isn’t just heavy, he’s literally bursting at the seams.
John Locke (Because We Can!)
By Lawrence Van Alstyne December 24, 1863 As tomorrow is Christmas we went out and made such purchases of good things as our purses would allow, and these we turned over to George and Henry for safe keeping and for cooking on the morrow. After that we went across the street to see what was in a tent that had lately been put up there. We found it a sort of show. There was a big snake in a showcase filled with cheap looking jewelry, each piece having a number attached to it. Also, a dice cup and dice. For $1.00 one could throw once, and any number of spots that came up would entitle the thrower to the piece of jewelry with a corresponding number on it. Just as it had all been explained to us, a greenhorn-looking chap came in and, after the thing had been explained to him, said he was always unlucky with dice, but if one of us would throw for him he would risk a dollar just to see how the game worked. Gorton is such an accommodating fellow I expected he would offer to make the throw for him, but as he said nothing, I took the cup and threw seventeen. The proprietor said it was a very lucky number, and he would give the winner $12 in cash or the fine pin that had the seventeen on it. The fellow took the cash, like a sensible man. I thought there was a chance to make my fortune and was going right in to break the bank, when Gorton, who was wiser than I, took me to one side and told me not to be a fool; that the greenhorn was one of the gang, and that the money I won for him was already his own. Others had come by this time and I soon saw he was right, and I kept out. We watched the game a while, and then went back to Camp Dudley and to bed. Christmas, and I forgot to hang up my stocking. After getting something to eat, we took stock of our eatables and of our pocket books, and found we could afford a few things we lacked. Gorton said he would invite his horse jockey friend, James Buchanan, not the ex-President, but a little bit of a man who rode the races for a living. So taking Tony with me I went up to a nearby market and bought some oysters and some steak. This with what we had on hand made us a feast such as we had often wished for in vain. Buchanan came, with his saddle in his coat pocket, for he was due at the track in the afternoon. George and Henry outdid themselves in cooking, and we certainly had a feast. There was not much style about it, but it was satisfying. We had overestimated our capacity, and had enough left for the cooks and drummer boys. Buchanan went to the races, Gorton and I went to sleep, and so passed my second Christmas in Dixie. At night the regiment came back, hungry as wolves. The officers mostly went out for a supper, but Gorton and I had little use for supper. We had just begun to feel comfortable. The regiment had no adventures and saw no enemy. They stopped at Baton Rouge and gave the 128th a surprise. Found them well and hearty, and had a real good visit. I was dreadfully sorry I had missed that treat. I would rather have missed my Christmas dinner. They report that Colonel Smith and Adjutant Wilkinson have resigned to go into the cotton and sugar speculation. The 128th is having a free and easy time, and according to what I am told, discipline is rather slack. But the stuff is in them, and if called on every man will be found ready for duty. The loose discipline comes of having nothing to do. I don’t blame them for having their fun while they can, for there is no telling when they will have the other thing. From Diary of an Enlisted Man by Lawrence Van Alstyne. New Haven, Conn., 1910.
Philip van Doren Stern (The Civil War Christmas Album)
No matter what happens, he sees the bright side. If someone dies suddenly, he’ll say, ‘At least he didn’t suffer.’ If someone dies slowly, he’ll say, ‘At least he had time to prepare.’ When I’m down, he always points out some positive lesson or eventual positive outcome. Every cloud’s got a silver lining.” —Edith, Baton Rouge, LA
Merry Bloch Jones (I Love Him, But . . .)
As two leading weight loss experts, Dr Corby Martin and Professor Kishore Gadde from Pennington Biomedical Research Center, Baton Rouge, put it, ‘The myth that rapid weight loss is associated with rapid weight gain is no more true than Aesop’s fables.
Michael Mosley (The Fast 800: How to Combine Rapid Weight Loss and Intermittent Fasting for Long-Term Health)
1997, the Honey Bee Breeding Laboratory in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, imported Russian bees hailing from the Vladivostok area and supplied them to breeders.
Hannah Nordhaus (The Beekeeper's Lament: How One Man and Half a Billion Honey Bees Help Feed America)