Goth Quotes

What makes big boobs and perkiness so attractive to boys? I mean, really. Two round, mounds of fat and a fake smile. Yeah, winning attributes.

The farther you go...the harder it is to return. The world has many edges and it's easy to fall off.

Last night you said you wanted to know what to expect so you could better select your attire. I told you we were going to visit a vampire in a Goth-den tonight. Why, then, Ms. Lane, do you look like a perky rainbow?

Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium. After I spent the past three days wondering if you were dead." "I was not shacking up," Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face. "And my hair is naturally blond," said Jace. "Just for the record." Simon, Clary, and Jace, pg. 115

That was the goth stage, where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention my hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.

People are the most difficult thing in the world to change

Could a scar be like the rings of a tree, reopened with each emotional season?

There’s a really stupid saying: When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. Well, I have a better saying: When life hands you a lemon, shove that lemon up its stupid butt.

Don't leave me, Rainbow Girl." Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was? It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. "Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucé's the night you told me to dress Goth?" "It's upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.

What I like about The Sims is that I don't have a normal life at all, so I play this game where these people have these really boring, mundane lives. It's fun. My Sims family is called the Cholly family. I don't know why I picked that name; it's kind of random. The teenage daughter is my favourite, because I just had her go through this Goth phase. She's really kind of nerdy and she just became a concert violinist, which is pretty huge for the family. And she got into private school. But she started wearing black lipstick and she dyed her hair purple. It's pretty huge.

I’m not a bad person. I haven’t killed anyone. I (rarely) lie. I don’t kick little puppies. So why do people look at me as if the world would be a better place without me?

You look like a Goth factory exploded all over you!" he called as she ran down the hall. "Love you, too, jackass!

There are times I wish I were invisible. Which is silly, since I do everything I can to stand out.

My very own goth Mr. Darcy. Jane Austen would be so proud.

At 7:45, I was in the bathroom putting on some mascara when Jenna slipped in wearing an outfit that I can only describe as Hello Kitty Goes Goth.

Bite me, Goth princess,” Shane called from the back. “Not literally or anything.” “Maybe you should say that to Michael.” “Not funny, Eve,” Michael said. Eve raised her eyebrows and held her fingers up, measuring off about an inch. “Little bit,” she said.

Says the girl dressed up in formal Goth mourning," Shane said. "Seriously, who buys a black lace veil? You keep that on hand for special occasions, like prom and kid's birthdays?

He was full of suprises, my Goth Boy.

How does fear become so powerful? We can’t see it. We can’t touch it, yet it gets its claws in us and begins to control us. Sigh. I hate feeling afraid, and I hate, hate, HATE feeling out of control.

Hey,” Shane said from the other side of the bars. “Trade you cigarettes for a chocolate bar.” Funny,” Eve said. She was almost back to her old unGothed self again, though there were still red splotches on her cheeks and around her eyes. “How come you’re always behind bars, troublemaker?” Look who’s talking. I didn’t try to outrun the cops in a hearse.” That hearse had horsepower.” Eve got that moony look in her eyes again. “I love that hearse.

Nice. I like a little desperation in a guy. It builds character.

There are two kinds of people,’ she’d said. ‘Those who coast through life like ducks in a row, following one after the other, and those who ride the waves.’” Tears spilled down my cheeks, and my voice cracked. “‘Ride the waves, baby, and live. Live.

And the truth is that I'm not, Ed, is what I wanted to tell you. I'm not arty like everyone says who doesn't know me, I don't paint, I can't draw, I play no instrument, I can't sing. I'm not in plays, I wanted to say, I don't write poems. I can't dance except tipsy at dances. I'm not athletic, I'm not a goth or a cheerleader, I'm not treasurer or co-captain. I'm not gay and out and proud, I'm not that kid from Sri Lanka, not a triplet, a prep, a drunk, a genius, a hippie, a Christian, a slut, not even one of those super-Jewish girls with a yarmulke gang wishing everyone a happy Sukkoth. I'm not anything, this is what I realized ... I like movies, everyone knows I do -- I love them -- but I will never be in charge of one because my ideas are stupid and wrong in my head. There's nothing different about that, nothing fascinating, interesting, worth looking at.

What are you doing, meditating?" "No, I'm trying to calm down so I don't kick your ass," she said through clenched teeth.

The only vampires I've ever seen are the Goths trying to get a glimpse of Anne Rice's house, who drink strawberry sodas and tell each other it's blood.

Oh, he did look like a deity – the perfect balance of danger and charm, he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible, distant because of his demonstrated flawlessness, and possessing such strength of character that he was dismaying and at the same time utterly attractive in an enticing and forbidden way.

Dear Lord,” began Randy, who paused for long enough that Tristan sneaked an eye open to look at him. His saw his mother’s cheek twitch with what he thought might be apprehension. “We are so grateful to be gathered here today with our family, and the family of our brother’s homosexual boyfriend, and our new little goth friend who has a gay dad, whatever the heck that is all about. We’d like to say we’re grateful this year for condoms, lube, and Ellen Degeneres, and for those guys on Queer Eye…” Randall Evan Phillips!” his mother shouted.

Steampunk is nothing more than what happens when Goths discover brown.

Guy? Mister? Mr. Goth Man, would you please wake up so I can leave? I really don't want to hang out in a closet with a dead man any longer than I have to, okay? C'mon, please, don't make this a Weekend at Bernie's thing! (Amanda)

The vamp in McMann’s stared at me. I guess he didn’t like the Goth look. Most of them don’t; somehow they think I’m making fun of them. Which I totally am.

I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah... Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting audience I have ever had.

I had choosen the path of the black sheep rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.

She shrugged and flipped her glossy hair behind her shoulders. "What else do you have to do with your time besides think about stuff like this? It's not like you're real heavy into extracurriculars. Besides, you're all, like, goth and into the dead, right?" Alona Dare, queen of the insult-compliment. "Wow. Thanks. Anyone ever tell you you're good with people?" She frowned. "No." "Good. I'm not goth." "Your hair is black, you have piercings, you wear black all the time and act all freaky-" "My hair is naturally this color. I have three earings in one ear, that's it. This shirt" -I tugged at the fabric across my chest- "is navy blue, and if I act weird all the time, it's because of ghosts like you.

Do you think it takes true pain to experience true pleasure?

Did you see him? I know the photo was grainy, but he looks like one of those death metal goth heads, or whatever they’re called. All dressed in black with long hair I took umbrage at my mother describing my boyfriend this way. John was the Lord of the Underworld. How else was he supposed to dress?

You better smile, or we're toast," I said. "Everything about you screams social malcontent with a grudge and a trunk full of weapons.

And I wasn’t playing a role – I was trying to be myself. But the harder I was striving, the more I was realizing that I had probably lost that ‘myself’ somewhere between two perfectly performed roles...

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket–the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary, New Orleans’s premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon–the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek…Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.’ (Talon)

Bouncing in hoppy little circles like a demented Goth bunny.

I’d love to try to tame you... And I would simply adore it if you turn out untamable –

My shirt is gray,” I pointed out. “You’ve expanded my fashion horizons dramatically. I wear three colours now.

When you were a Goth, it was important to at least imply the possibility you might burst into flames in direct sunlight.

It’s called a near-death experience. You should try it sometime,” I said sweetly. “Maybe without the ‘near’.

You look so out of your element. (Savitar) I am out of my element. Much like you in a Seattle Goth club. (Acheron) I’m never out of my element, Atlantean. And it must be dire indeed to get you in shorties, and on a board. One day I’m actually going to get you to say ‘Rad four-mill steamer, dude! (Savitar)

What is that phrase the kids use today? Oh, yeah. You’re his bitch, his spirit-world bitch

I know who you are, no matter what you look like,” he said quietly, surprising me.

What happened to you?" she asked. "Ben was feeling artistic. Wanted to rearrange my face.

She raised a sharp eyebrow at him. "Vlad, no offense, but look at you. If you're not a vampire, you're clearly the most anemic goth I've ever seen."... "We believed you. Because that's what friends do." pg267 October to Vlad

I’d ended up sprawled across his chest, which was actually broader than it looked. Navy blue is a slimming colour, I guess.

Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –

Goth was sort of the melancholy cousin of punk that says: there's a lot of evil in this world, there's a lot of very mean spirited people and that makes me sad.

I felt like - like I don't know what. Like this wasn't real. Like I was in some Goth version of a bad sitcom. Instead of being the A/V dweeb about to ask the head cheerleader to the prom, I was the finished-second-place werewolf about to ask the vampire's wife to shack up and procreate. Nice. - Jacob

God, buses are so ugly when you see them that close.

I was never able to accept anyone else’s support but my own –

And what if you try to kill me? Or worse: to kiss me?

Dylan sighed. Some days he sighed more than others, and some days it seems like he did nothing but. He had a face that could have been on a Roman coin, and I'd heard his real name was something unpronouncable and Goth. Not like black-lipstick-and-angst, but actual barbarian.

Stop…stop, that’s the next generation of fans… How dare you pass judgment on those 12-year-old girls who like vampires! They need to be encouraged because in six years they’ll be 18-year-old girls who like vampires and are into all sorts of goth-permissive and whatnot. Don’t Poo-poo it. There’s a plan, and it’s working.

Do vampyres play chess? Were there vampyre dorks? How about Barbie-like vampyre cheerleaders? Did any vampyres play in the band? Were there vampyre Emos with their guy-wearing-girl’s-pants weirdness and those awful bangs that cover half their faces? Or were they all those freaky Goth kids who didn’t like to bathe much? Was I going to turn into a Goth kid? Or worse, an Emo? I didn’t particularly like wearing black, at least not exclusively, and I wasn’t feeling a sudden and unfortunate aversion to soap and water, nor did I have an obsessive desire to change my hairstyle and wear too much eyeliner.

This girl who equally drove me crazy and made me care about her more than I should. She was the only one who understood. The only one who could help make what I was more bearable, even if she occasionally tortured me in the process.

...she's leaving now. ... Janis attacks the back door of the school gym and finds herself in a heavy cloud of smoke. She realizes she's found the Goths' hangout. Who knew? "Oof," someone says. She keeps walking, muttering, "sorry" to whomever it was she hit with the flying door. *** Cabel: ... That was the Goth stage where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention the hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And, when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.

Well, there's this new girl who just moved in on floor three. Her family's re-opening the cafe. I hear she likes to lie, and hit people." "Oh yeah? Well, there's that strange goth guy, the one who's always lurking around Five C." "Strangely hot in a mysterious way, though, right?

I knew then that I would devote every minute we had left together to making her happy, to repairing the pain I had caused her and returning to her what I never known how to give her. These pages will be our memory until she drows her last breath in my arms and I take her forever and escape at last to a place where neither heaven nor hell will ever be able to find us.

Over the years, I’d seen all kinds of smiles from her. The kind designed to make all the blood drain from your head and gather behind your zipper...

Emotions don’t interfere in my acting, nor in my life.

Even I don’t know myself... In fact, I don’t know if I really have a self at all, as I’m constantly playing different roles and pretending – not so much on stage as in real life...

A good enemy can be better than the best of friend.

One time you told me that the opposite of love isn't hate. And I didn't understand that, but I think I do know. Because if you hate someone, you most still care, right? You have to care a little bit; otherwise you would just ignore them and forget they even live. Or lived.

Great. Not only do I have an angry spirit guide, but an angry spirit guide with a vindictive streak and an unnatural knowledge of show tunes. Better and better already.

You kissed me once and now you feel as if you’ve got some special kind of licence to do it whenever you want?

If on thoughts of death we are fed, Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

Three days isn’t that long to go without human contact, unless everyone you touch turns your insides into a cold, shaky mess. Then it feels like forever...and touching Will Killian actually felt pretty good.

From what I'd witnessed, Alona Dare was single minded, determined, and ruthless. If high school was a zoo, she was the lioness running the hunt on the hapless tourists who'd wandered into the wrong enclosure.

I thought for sure you were going straight to hell.

The truth is, it's really only okay to be yourself if that self is within an accepted range of 'normal'.

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

I just have an allergic reaction to lung cancer. Gives me tumors.

I suspected those people were seeking to make sense of the world by turning her into a cautionary tale, the lesson being, look both ways. And don't be such a bitch.

My mouth fell open, and I swear, I got chills. He’d actually done it. He’d told his mom no. Somewhere along the line, Will Killian had grown a mother-proof spine.

My mother's voice intruded on a dream in which a large animated eggplant named Bob teetered on the edge of a cliff with thoughts of suicide and Parmesan.

Killian wasn't dead. He just dressed like it.

Just thinking.” “Why start now?

I think, uh, I might be in love with you," I said, my voice sounding gruff and awkward even to my own ears.

Have some pride, will ya? Begging someone to like you is so pathetic.

You know what, your imagination works faster than your mind.

Even the knowledge of my own fallibility cannot keep me from making mistakes. Only when I fall do I get up again.

You don't like the Goths?" "No! Not with the persecution we have to put up with!" "Persecution?" "Religious persecution. We won't stand for it forever." "I thought the Goths let everybody worship as they pleased." "That's just it! We Orthodox are forced to stand around and watch Arians and Monophysites and Nestorians and Jews going about their business unmolested, as if they owned the country. If that isn't persecution, I'd like to know what is!

What part of Vivis servimus non mortuis do you not understand?” she asked. “All of it?

Trust me, you see the dead walking around, you learn not to scream, laugh, or piss yourself pretty quickly.

Why? What happened to her? Did you get her pregnant? Shove her down a flight of stairs? Help her evil twin abduct her and take her to Mexico for some face altering plastic surgery?

I don't know and I don't care anymore. I was supposed to have my way for once, just once in my life. I did everything right and I got nothing for it. I want to kill them all. no, better yet, I want to die. No, even bettter than that: I want to kill them all then die.

Teachers, parents, guidance counselors... all of them are always pushing this crap about how it's okay to be different, just be yourself. Don't give in to peer pressure, blah, blah, blah. The truth is, it's really only okay to be yourself if that self is within an accepted range of "normal." You like soccer instead of basketball, Johnny? Well, okay, I guess, so long as you still like sports. What's that, Susie, you want to wear the blue sweater instead of the red? You know we're all about expressing individuality here... so long as it's still a sweater.

Granuaile looked terminally depressed when she emerged from the bathroom with raven hair and, as a result rather Goth by accident. She didn't want to get her picture taken. "Aughh!" she said miserably, looking in the vanity mirror in the truck of the cab and fingering a wavy curl near her temple. "This sucks more than anything has ever sucked before. You know what we look like? A couple of emo douche bags." "Well, look at the bright side, Granuaile. Emo Douche Bags would be a great band name." [That's brilliant! It's already the unofficial name of more bands than I can count.]

It’s easier for me to make sense of it that way than it is for me to face the other way—reality. And yet, those evil spirits that were unleashed—be they fake entities from a stupid carnival ride, or cruel malevolencies from dark spiritual chasms of our universe—have stayed with me all these years

Gray. The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me. Gray...

I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours. Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...

Would Alona be gone before I even got a chance to say good-bye? A real good-bye? One last kiss and the chance to tell her that she’d made my life better even as she’d made me crazy? That we were better together than I would ever be by myself, but that because of her, I would be okay? Not great, but okay, and I owed that all to her? No. I needed to see her one last time.

Um… Eve…can I ask…?” “About what?” Eve was still frowning at the pasta like she suspected it to do something clever, like try to escape the pot. “You and Michael.” “Oh.” A surge of pink to Eve’s cheeks. Between that and the fact that she was wearing colors outside of the Goth red and black rainbow, she looked young and very cute. “Well. I don’t know if it’s – God, he’s just so–” “Hot?” Claire asked. “Hot,” Eve admitted. “Nuclear hot. Surface of the sun hot. And–” She stopped, the flush in her cheeks getting darker. Claire picked up a wooden spoon and poked the pasta, which was beginning to loosen up. “And?” “And I was planning on putting the moves on him before all this happened. That’s why I had on the garters and stuff. Planning ahead.” “Oh, wow.” “Yeah, embarrassing. Did he peek?” “When you were changing?” Claire asked. “I don’t think so. But I think he wanted to.” “That’s okay then.” Eve blinked down at the pasta, which had formed a thick white foam on top. “Is it supposed to be doing that?” Claire hadn’t ever seen it happen at her parents’ house. But then again, they hadn’t made spaghetti much. “I don’t know.” “Oh, crap!” The white foam kept growing, like in one of those cheesy science fiction movies. The foam that ate the Glass House…it mushroomed up over the top of the pot and down over the sides, and both girls yelped as it hit the burners and began to sizzle and pop. Claire grabbed the pot and moved it. Eve turned down the burner. “Right, pasta makes foam, good to know. Too hot. Way too hot.” “Who? Michael?” Claire asked, and they dissolved in giggles.

In a way, i feel sorry for boys. They're weak. You show them boobs or a butt and they just fall apart. But I feel sorry for girls, too. Because girls get screwed, even when they're not naked with a guy. Everyone hates girls--even other girls. I mean, "girl" is like an insult, you know? "That's so girly." "Stop being a girl." "You're like a little girl." Hey, you know what? I was a little girl once and I kicked ass. I was awesome.

The systems we will be exploring in order are: ● Breeding Targets: Arousal patterns tied to systems meant to get our ancestors to have sex with things that might bear offspring (e.g., arousal from things like penises, the female form, etc.). ● Inverse Systems: Arousal patterns that arise from a neural mix-up, causing something that disgusts the majority of the population to arouse a small portion of it (e.g., arousal from things like being farted on, dead bodies, having insects poured on one’s face, etc.). ● Emotional States and Concepts / Dominance and Submission: Arousal patterns that stem from either emotional concepts (such as betrayal, transformation, being eaten, etc.) or dominance and submission pathways. ● Emotional Connections to People: While emotional connections do not cause arousal in and of themselves, they do lower the threshold for arousal (i.e., you may become more aroused by a moderately attractive person you love than a very attractive stranger). ● Trope Attraction: Arousal patterns that are enhanced through a target’s adherence to a specific trope (a nurse, a goth person, a cheerleader, etc.). ● Novelty: Arousal patterns tied to the novelty of a particular stimulus. ● Pain and Asphyxiation: Arousal patterns associated with or enhanced by pain and oxygen deprivation. ● Basic Instincts: Remnants of our pre-cognitive mating instincts running off of a “deeper” autopilot-like neurological system (dry humping, etc.) that compel mating behavior without necessarily generating a traditional feeling of arousal. ● Physical Stimuli: Arousal patterns derived from physical interaction (kissing, touching an erogenous zone, etc.). ● Conditioned Responses: Arousal patterns resulting from conditioning (arousal from shoes, doorknobs, etc.).