Bo Burnham Quotes

I love you just the way you are but you don't see you like I do. You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

Well, man, you know what they say." No, I don't. I don't know what they say. I don't even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

Mmmmmm I like that thing you do with your tongue. What do you call it? Speaking? Yeah, I dig it

What's important is that you stay true to yourself. Because when you enter the real world, the most valuable thing you can bring is all your you-ness. The world doesn't need any more hot chicks or tough guys or smooth talkers - the world needs more you. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I’ve met many today but can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone you-er.

Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT. Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice: "Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?" Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that? How?! It must've been magic.

Forever and An Instant met up one day, Had a short, but lovely talk, then each went on it's way.

Fireflies Hey, fireflies! Fly higher, guys! Fly high above this place. Till a sky rise is a wire’s size. Then fly off into space. I catch stupid bugs in jars but you’re not bugs you’re baby stars!

If you were perfect, I’d tattoo this on my chest. If you were beautiful, I’d carve this into a tree trunk. If you were nice, I’d write this in a letter. But you’re none of those—

Imagination They say adults have no imagination. Not true. Just instead of dinosaurs and spaceships, they imagine silence and the new babysitter bent over the coffee table.

Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.

Your afraid of sharks? Really? They don't even have bones! They have cartilage. Are you afraid of ears too?

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, hollow be thy promises and shallow be thy shame. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. On a scale from on to ten, our Lord is totally eleven. Give us this day our daily bread, toasted close to dawn, and forgive us our trespasses as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn, and lead us not into temptation, such as pot or porno, but deliver us from evil (if not delivery, then DiGiorno).

Hanged" I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever, the point is I hanged myself today and I’m still hanging. I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping that someone will come home and cut me down but then I keep remembering that if I knew someone like that I wouldn’t be up here. Bit ironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I read somewhere that, like, anything funny is, in some way, ironic. But I don’t know if it's funny or not. I don’t think my brain owns “funny”, you know? I feel taller. I like that. I’ve never been away from my shadow for this long. It had always clung to my feet, parting momentarily for a quick dive into the swimming pool. But never for five hours. I like it. There’s three feet of space between my two and the floor. I wanted something this morning. I may be stuck. But at least I’m three feet closer to it.

Big When I was little, I killed ants with a magnifying glass. And now I'm big. And I worry I'm doing the same thing with you.

Bitches and hoes don't exist because the hoes know Bo's a feminist.

Bombs The first bomb dropped unheard, unlike the loudly dropped second and third; then the final bomb dropped from the sky to the ground and the last-seen bomb made the last-heard sound.

Judge Jesus I said, “You can’t judge me. Only Jesus can!” He said, “Well I can ’cause I’m a judge and ’cause you just killed a man.

They say it's the 'me' generation. It's not. The arrogance is taught, or it was cultivated. It's self-conscious. That's what it is. It's conscious of self. Social media - it's just the market's answer to a generation that demanded to perform, so the market said, here - perform. Perform everything to each other, all the time, for no reason. It's prison - it's horrific. It's performer and audience melded together. What do we want more than to lie in our bed at the end of the day and just watch our life as a satisfied audience member. I know very little about anything. But what I do know is that if you can live your life without an audience, you should do it.

My Rabbit’s Foot I’ve got a rabbit’s foot and I feel lucky that I have it, but I still know that it must’ve come from one unlucky rabbit.

Perfect I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do. You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

They “Well, man, you know what they say.” No, I don’t. I don’t know what they say. I don’t even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

Sully suffers from a stutter, simple syllables will clutter, stalling speeches up on beaches like a sunken sailboat rudder. Sully strains to say his phrases, sickened by the sounds he raises, strings of thoughts come out in knots, he solves his sentences like mazes. At night, he writes his thoughts instead and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.

Searching I’m not looking in every nook and cranny for it. I’ll do the nooks. No way I left my keys in some fucking cranny.

How fitting, she thought, that her words, after tumbling in her head all day, came out shrunken like they were meant for a child.

How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I’ve met many today but can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone you-er.

I'll do that tomorrow. Then tomorrow comes and it's still today. Tomorrow is a relative term. Makes Annie a lot more depressing

Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT. Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice: "Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?" Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that? How?! It must've been magic.

Flowers On the third of June, at a minute past two, where once was a person, a flower now grew. Five daisies arranged on a large outdoor stage in front of a ten-acre pasture of sage. In a changing room, a lily poses. At the DMV, rows of roses. The world was much crueler an hour ago. I’m glad someone decided to give flowers a go.

I feel taller. I like that.

I put a chameleon on a red dildo... He blushed

Women are like toes and fingers they're easy to count on.

Gypsy On Wednesday morning, clear and calm, I went to Astor Place. And had a Gypsy read my palm or maybe just my face. She said my heart was heavy and my head was stuffed with lies. But things like that weren't on my hands, they hid behind my eyes. The room is dull and dank and cold but at least I have a hand to hold.

You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

The Squares The Squares lived happily, in their square houses, in their square yards, in their square town. One day, a family of Circles moved in from the west. “Get out of here, roundies!” shouted one of the Squares. “Why?” asked one of the Circles. “Because this is a metaphor for racism!

You argue and you bicker and you fight...Atheists and Catholics, Jews and Hindus argue day and night...over what they think is true...but no one entertains the thought that maybe God does not believe in you.

Forever and an Instant Forever and an instant met up one day, had a short but lovely talk, then each went on its way.

Rock Bottom I've hit rock bottom. What's a guy to do? I certainly can't head upward, so I'll try digging through!

9 likes Like Facebook_icon “Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT. Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice: "Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?" Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that? How?! It must've been magic.

You’re afraid of sharks? Really? They don’t even have bones! They have cartilage. Are you afraid of ears too?

When I walk into a room, you’d think I was one of those long, straight Tetris pieces because everyone’s just like, “Oh great, you’re here! We’ve been waiting for you to show up.

Cup of Joe There's nothing like a cup of joe, when the morning's grey and grim and slow, when the streets collide with the world outside, when litter lies where lilies grow. Just drink that smoking cup of black and feel your feelings surging back. Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shop will sprout up from a sidewalk crack!

Perfect I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do. You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect. Trust me, perfect should try to be you.

Take a deep breath and give up

When life gives you lemons, you probably just found lemons

Life is an open book. Time is an oscillating fan. I’ve had to learn to skim-read because before I can read more than a few paragraphs, That fucking airhead comes circling back, blowing pages like a medieval prostitute. The cool air feels nice, though. Sometimes, when my head aches, I let me eyes relax and I enjoy the breeze as the words blur.

The influx of suited men on the airport’s moving walkway transformed it into a conveyor belt.

quotes are for dumb people who can't think of something intelligent to say on their own. - anonymous

Being self-aware about doing something you hate doesn't save you from the act.

I don’t know about you guys, but, um, you know, I’ve been thinking recently that… that you know, maybe, um, allowing giant digital media corporations to exploit the neurochemical drama of our children for profit… You know, maybe that was, uh… a bad call by us. Maybe… maybe the… the flattening of the entire subjective human experience into a… lifeless exchange of value that benefits nobody, except for, um, you know, a handful of bug-eyed salamanders in Silicon Valley… Maybe that as a… as a way of life forever… maybe that’s, um, not good.

In their vlogs, these kids were embodying the very truth that I as a writer am often desperate to deny: that our words fail us. They fail us brutally. The gap between the experience in our head and the articulation of that experience in our words is vast and disappointing.

Onion You had many layers like an onion. Wait, no, like an artichoke—with your layers arranged like snake scales, not stacked like coats of paint. Be sure to call in a year or so and tell me whether I was lifting heavy stones off your bunker door or plucking petals off your face.

Art is dead. Art is dead. Art is dead. Art is dead. Entertainers like to seem complicated But we're not complicated I can explain it pretty easily Have you ever been to a birthday Party for children? And one of the children won't stop screaming 'Cause he's just a little Attention attractor When he grows up To be a comic or actor He'll be rewarded for never maturing For never under- Standing or learning That every day Can't be about him There's other people You selfish asshole I must be psychotic I must be demented To think that I'm worthy Of all this attention Of all of this money, you worked really hard for I slept in late while you worked at the drug store My drug's attention, I am an addict But I get paid to indulge in my habit It's all an illusion, I'm wearing make-up, I'm wearing make-up Make-up, make-up, make-up, make... Art is dead So people think you're funny, how do we get those people's money? I said art is dead We're rolling in dough, while Carlin rolls in his grave His grave, his grave The show has got a budget The show has got a budget And all the poor people way more deserving of the money Won't budge it 'Cause I wanted my name in lights When I could have fed a family of four For forty fucking fortnights Forty fucking fortnights I am an artist, please God forgive me I am an artist, please don't revere me I am an artist, please don't respect me I am an artist, you're free to correct me A self-centred artist Self-obsessed artist I am an artist I am an artist But I'm just a kid I'm just a kid I'm just a kid Kid And maybe I'll grow out of it.

quotes are for dumb people who can't think of something intelligent to say on their own." - anonymous

A big part of being confident is being brave, and you can’t be brave unless you’re scared.

Quotes are for dumb people who can't think of something intelligent to say on their own.

Our Father Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, hollow be thy promises and shallow be thy shame. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. On a scale from one to ten, our Lord is totally eleven. Give us this day our daily bread, toasted close to dawn, and forgive us our trespasses as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn, and lead us not into temptation, such as pot or porno, but deliver us from evil (if not delivery, then DiGiorno).

Maybe life on earth could be heaven

I’m stuck in this thing and I’m wanting to leave. There are holes in the thing that hiss when I breathe. And the more that I sit here, the more I believe that I’m stuck in this thing and won’t ever leave. Back at the kennel, the whole cage was ours but maybe these walls are better than bars, or maybe I’m hurtling skyward to Mars and maybe those holes are actually stars!