Joe Quotes

The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.

The saddest thing about love, Joe, is that not only the love cannot last forever, but even the heartbreak is soon forgotten.

He made me think of all the books I hadn't read, and all the ones I'd read but hadn't fully understood.

I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I never learn is to stop making them.

Cynicism is what passes for insight among the mediocre.

Once you've got a task to do, it's better to do it than live with the fear of it.

One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.

Sunny day Sweepin' the clouds away On my way to where the air is sweet

There are things known and there are things unknown and in between are the doors.

Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,' Holly advised him. 'That was Doc's mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky." "She's drunk," Joe Bell informed me. "Moderately," Holly confessed....Holly lifted her martini. "Let's wish the Doc luck, too," she said, touching her glass against mine. "Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc -- it's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.

The best way to get even with anyone is to put them in the rearview mirror on your way to something better.

A good marriage is where both people feel like they're getting the better end of the deal.

I like the way you've let your hair go curly," he finally said. "Suits your personality. Lots of energy, not much control, sexy as hell," Joe Morelli to Stephanie Plum

You think you know someone. But mostly you just know what you want to know.

Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it's true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn't fade and the scars don't heal, and it's too damned late.

I've heard tell that what you imagine sometimes comes true. -Grandpa Joe

I tell you, I'm half tempted to break into CIA custody just so I can break Joe Solomon out of CIA custody just so I can break Joe Solomon.

We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.

Rules are for children. This is war, and in war the only crime is to lose.

You have to realistic about these things.

Travel brings wisdom only to the wise. It renders the ignorant more ignorant than ever.

History isn't the lies of the victors, as I once glibly assured Old Joe Hunt; I know that now. It's more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious or defeated.

You are the masterpiece of your own life. You are the Michelangelo of your own life. The David you are sculpturing is you (Dr. Joe Vitale)

The truth is like salt. Men want to taste a little, but too much makes everyone sick.

Proof is boring. Proof is tiresome. Proof is an irrelevance. People would far rather be handed an easy lie than search for a difficult truth, especially if it suits their own purposes.

Truly, life is the misery we endure between disappointments.

You were a hero round these parts. That's what they call you when you kill so many people the word murderer falls short.

You should laugh every moment you live, for you'll find it decidedly difficult afterwards.

Of course you know, this means war.

she thinks I'm psycho cause I like to rhyme her name with things.

Every man has his excuses, and the more vile the man becomes, the more touching the story has to be. What is my story now, I wonder?

Well. What can we do, except try to do better?

There is something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.

I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words.

Sometimes it doesn't matter too much what choice you make, as long as you make it quick and stick to it.

I've made peace with myself. Good for you. That's the hardest war of all to win. Didn't say I won. Just stopped fighting.

She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.

Honour, eh? What the hell is that anyway? Every man thinks it's something different. You can't drink it. You can't fuck it. The more of it you have the less good it does you, and if you've got none at all you don't miss it.

There are three sides to every story. Mine, yours and the truth.” —Joe Massino

I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same fifty percent rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don't...Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe...same as the voodoo lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles. It's all the same...so just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself...

If you can quit, quit. If you can't quit, stop complaining - this is what you chose.

Anyone can face ease and success with confidence. It is the way we face trouble and misfortune that defines us.

People love to see death. It reminds them that however mean, however low, however horrible their lives become… at least they have one.

Memory can refuse to let you forget what you’d like to and run away with what you want to remember. It’s an unreliable bitch, or your best friend. Sometimes, it’s both at once.

If you want to be a new man you have to stay in new places, and do new things, with people who never knew you before. If you go back to the same old ways, what else can you be but the same old person?

She glanced down at the contents of her plate. Just tell him what it is. Simple. Look at it and say what it is. "Sloppy Joe," she managed. "Hmm," he said, sounding doubtful. "May he rest in peace.

But that was civilisation, so far as Logen could tell. People with nothing better to do, dreaming up ways to make easy things difficult.

You can never have too many knives, his father had told him. Unless they're pointed at you, and by people who don't like you much.

There are six reasons anyone does anything: Love. Faith. Greed. Boredom. Fear..." he said, ticking them off on his fingers; but he lingered on the last, drawing a deep breath before he said, "Revenge.

When you're in hell, only a devil can point the way out.

It's hard to be done a favor by a man you hate. It's hard to hate him so much afterwards. Losing an enemy can be worse than losing a friend, if you've had him for long enough.

If you ever start taking things too seriously, just remember that we are talking monkeys on an organic spaceship flying through the universe.

Those with the least always lose the most in war.

The more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. Still, the struggle itself is worthwhile. Knowledge is the root of power, after all.

You have to learn to love the small things in life, like a hot bath. You have to love the small things, when you have nothing else.

Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?

That was the difference between a hero and a villain, a soldier and a murderer, a victory and a crime. Which side of a river you called home.

Strange, how the best moments of our lives we scarcely notice except in looking back.

I’m not sure I could trust a man who would bypass an Oreo in favor of vanilla wafers. It’s a fundamental character flaw, possibly a sign of true evil.

Maybe all the schemes of the devil were nothing compared to what man could think up.

If life has taught me one thing, it's that there are no villains. Only people, doing their best.

A man lost in the desert must take such water as he is offered, no matter who it comes from.

You can't change the wind but you can set your sails.

Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

Sometimes men change for the better. Sometimes men change for the worse. And often, very often, given time and opportunity . . .’ He waved his flask around for a moment, then shrugged. ‘They change back.

If you're not gonna go all the way, why go at all?

Chose? If you believe that I chose any part of the pitiful shadow of a life you see before you, you are very much mistaken. I chose glory and success. The box did not contain what was written on the lid.

Taking a thing apart is always faster than putting something together. This is true of everything except marriage.

Has it ever occured to you, Master Ninefingers, that a sword is different from other weapons? Axes and maces and so forth are lethal enough, but they hang on the belt like dumb brutes. But a sword...a sword has a voice. Sheathed it has little to say, to be sure, but you need only put your hand on the hilt and it begins to whisper in your enemy's ear. A gentle word. A word of caution. Do you hear it? Now, compare it to the sword half drawn. It speaks louder, does it not? It hisses a dire threat. It makes a deadly promise. Do you hear it? Now compare it to the sword full drawn. It shouts now, does it not? It screams defiance! It bellows a challenge! Do you hear it?

It's okay to be a loser, it just depends on how good you are at being one.

A memory without the emotional charge is called wisdom.

Luck is a woman. She's drawn to those that least deserve her.

I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.

History is littered with dead good men.

Have a smile for breakfast, you'll be shitting joy by lunch.

My name is Nicomo Cosca, famed solider of fortune, and I am here for dinner.

Life is short and there will always be dirty dishes, so let's dance.

It bewildered Ig, the idea that a person could not be interested in music. It was like not being interested in happiness.

The wise wait for their moment, but never let it pass.

Yes?' Joe Solomon sounded like someone with far better things to do. 'Is there any homework?' she asked, and the class turned instantly from shocked to irritated. (Never ask that question in a room full of girls who are all black belts in karate) 'Yes,' Solomon said, holding the door in the universal signal for get out. 'Notice things.

When a man finds the woman he really loves, the one he respects and wants to call wife, there is nothing on earth he won't do for her. No mountain he won't hike. No river he won't wade. No door he won't open. She is Eve and there's not a snake crawling that can keep them apart.

Bad books on writing tell you to "WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW", a solemn and totally false adage that is the reason there exist so many mediocre novels about English professors contemplating adultery.

Honey, a man can't keep his gun in a cookie jar. It just isn't done.

Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.

To do something that you feel in your heart that's great, you need to make a lot of mistakes. Anything that's successful is a series of mistakes.

Knives,’ muttered Calder, ‘and threats, and bribes, and war?’ Bayaz’ eyes shone with the lamplight. ‘Yes?’ ‘What kind of a fucking wizard are you?’ ‘The kind you obey.

If you have read 6,000 books in your lifetime, or even 600, it's probably because at some level you find 'reality' a bit of a disappointment.

Hard words are for fools and cowards.

I'm a fucking coward." "Maybe." Craw jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Whirrun's corpse. "There's a hero. Tell me who's better off.

The only difference between war and murder is the number of dead.

Things aren't what they used to be' is the rallying cry of small minds. When men say things used to be better, they invariably mean they were better for them, because they were young, and had all their hopes intact. The world is bound to look a darker place as you slide into the grave.

Can you accept the notion that once you change your internal state, you don’t need the external world to provide you with a reason to feel joy, gratitude, appreciation, or any other elevated emotion?

I guess Satan was the first superhero [...] In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality.

Evil turned out not to be a grand thing. Not sneering Emperors with their world-conquering designs. Not cackling demons plotting in the darkness beyond the world. It was small men with their small acts and their small reasons. It was selfishness and carelessness and waste. It was bad luck, incompetence, and stupidity. It was violence divorced from conscience or consequence. It was high ideals, even, and low methods.

Congratulations, Mommy," I say, dropping the doll into his hands. "You could've told me I knocked you up." "My bad. I thought you'd force me to get an abortion," Henry replies, taking the baby and cradling it as if it's real. "He has your eyes, Woods." "And your hair." The doll is bald. "Can we name him Joe Montana?" "Hells no, his name is Jerry Rice." "No, his name is Joe Montana." "I was in labor with him for fourteen hours!" Henry exclaims as he rocks the baby back and forth. “His name is Jerry Rice." I grin. "Fine.

Mom! Mom. You have to smell him! It’s like… like… I don’t even know what it’s like! I was walking in the woods to scope out our territory so I could be like Dad and then it was like… whoa. And then he was all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting so good at hunting. I was all like rawr and grr but then I smelled it again and it was him and it was all kaboom! I don’t even know! I don’t even know! You gotta smell him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones and epic and awesome.

There's something horribly unfair about dying in the middle of a good story, before you have a chance to see how it all comes out. Of course, I suppose everyone ALWAYS dies in the middle of a good story, in a sense. Your own story. Or the story of your grandchildren. Death is a raw deal for narrative junkies.

And so now I'd like to say - people can change anything they want to. And that means everything in the world. People are running about following their little tracks - I am one of them. But we've all got to stop just following our own little mouse trail. People can do anything - this is something that I'm beginning to learn. People are out there doing bad things to each other. That's because they've been dehumanised. It's time to take the humanity back into the center of the ring and follow that for a time. Greed, it ain't going anywhere. They should have that in a big billboard across Times Square. Without people you're nothing. That's my spiel.

I’ve fought in three campaigns,” he began. “In seven pitched battles. In countless raids and skirmishes and desperate defences, and bloody actions of every kind. I’ve fought in the driving snow, the blasting wind, the middle of the night. I’ve been fighting all my life, one enemy or another, one friend or another. I’ve known little else. I’ve seen men killed for a word, for a look, for nothing at all. A woman tried to stab me once for killing her husband, and I threw her down a well. And that’s far from the worst of it. Life used to be cheap as dirt to me. Cheaper. “I’ve fought ten single combats and I won them all, but I fought on the wrong side and for all the wrong reasons. I’ve been ruthless, and brutal, and a coward. I’ve stabbed men in the back, burned them, drowned them, crushed them with rocks, killed them asleep, unarmed, or running away. I’ve run away myself more than once. I’ve pissed myself with fear. I’ve begged for my life. I’ve been wounded, often, and badly, and screamed and cried like a baby whose mother took her tit away. I’ve no doubt the world would be a better place if I’d been killed years ago, but I haven’t been, and I don’t know why.” He looked down at his hands, pink and clean on the stone. “There are few men with more blood on their hands than me. None, that I know of. The Bloody-Nine they call me, my enemies, and there’s a lot of ’em. Always more enemies, and fewer friends. Blood gets you nothing but more blood. It follows me now, always, like my shadow, and like my shadow I can never be free of it. I should never be free of it. I’ve earned it. I’ve deserved it. I’ve sought it out. Such is my punishment.

It is the mission of each true knight... His duty... nay, his privilege! To dream the impossible dream, To fight the unbeatable foe, To bear with unbearable sorrow To run where the brave dare not go; To right the unrightable wrong. To love, pure and chaste, from afar, To try, when your arms are too weary, To reach the unreachable star! This is my Quest to follow that star, No matter how hopeless, no matter how far, To fight for the right Without question or pause, To be willing to march into hell For a heavenly cause! And I know, if I'll only be true To this glorious Quest, That my heart will lie peaceful and calm When I'm laid to my rest. And the world will be better for this, That one man, scorned and covered with scars, Still strove, with his last ounce of courage, To reach the unreachable stars!