Pine Cove Quotes

People, generally, suck.

If you think anyone is sane you just don't know enough about them.

Christmas crept into Pine Cove like a creeping Christmas thing: dragging garland, ribbon, and sleigh bells, oozing eggnog, reeking of pine, and threatening festive doom like a cold sore under the mistletoe.

I've seen more intelligence in the crotch lice of harem whores.

I can be most colorful and inventive when I am angry.

So nerds rule.

By Aladdin's lamplit scrotum, man! Everything is a story. What is there but stories? Stories are the only truth.

No one knows why, but second only to eating the brains of the living, the dead love affordable prefab furniture.

Life is messy. Would that every puzzle piece fell into place, every word was kind, every accident happy, but such is not the case. Life is messy

He slid the photo out and raised it. The sun washed out any distinguishable characteristics. All except her eyes. He didn’t need a picture to remember those. As turquoise as the waters near Cozumel, and just as warm.

May the IRS find that you deduct your pet sheep as an entertainment expense.

The netherworld is timeless and unchanging, and boring -- much like a doctor's waiting room.

He has the attention span of a hummingbird.

If you think anyone is sane you just don’t know enough about them. The key — and this is very relevant in our case — is to find someone whose insanity dovetails with your own.

I think I'm what they call a never-was.

Well they're pissed off and they're hungry. I was kind of busy trying not to get my brains eaten. They seemed pretty adamant about the brain-eating thing. Then they're going to IKEA, I guess

The prospect of change is a many-fanged beast, my dear.

We know there's going to be nothing but pain, but we go back again and again.

Scratch a cynic and you will find a disappointed romantic.

Hope is merely another face of desire. And desire is a motherfucker.

You were supposed to empathize with your friend's problem, but they were, after all, your friend's problems...

I think there was always some scrawny dreamer sitting at the edge of the firelight, who had the ability to imagine dangers, to look into the future in his imagination and see possibilities, and therefore survived to pass his genes on to the next generation.

Theophilus Crowe's mobile phone played eight bars of "Tangled Up in Blue" in an irritating electronic voice that sounded like a choir of suffering houseflies, or Jiminy Cricket huffing helium, or, well, you know, Bob Dylan.

If they'd been dogs, they would have all been in the yard eating grass and trying to yak up whatever was making them feel so lousy. Not a bone gnawed, not a ball chased-all tails went unwagged. Oh, life is a fast cat, a short leash, a flea in that place where you just can't scratch.

Christmas Amnesty. You can fall out of contact with a friend, fail to return calls, ignore e-mails, avoid eye contact at the Thrifty-Mart, forget birthdays, anniversaries, and reunions, and if you show up at their house during the holidays (with a gift) they are socially bound to forgive you—act like nothing happened. Decorum dictates that the friendship move forward from that point, without guilt or recrimination. If you started a chess game ten years ago in October, you need only remember whose move it is—or why you sold the chessboard and bought an Xbox in the interim. (Look, Christmas Amnesty is a wonderful thing, but it’s not a dimensional shift. The laws of time and space continue to apply, even if you have been avoiding your friends. But don’t try using the expansion of the universe an as excuse—like you kept meaning to stop by, but their house kept getting farther away. That crap won’t wash. Just say, “Sorry I haven’t called. Merry Christmas” Then show the present. Christmas Amnesty protocol dictates that your friend say, “That’s okay,” and let you in without further comment. This is the way it has always been done.)

Just because he was pretty didn't mean he couldn't be improved by a smack upside the head with a piece of earnest hickory

Author's Warning If you're buying this book as a gift for your grandma or a kid, you should be aware that it contains cusswords as well as tasteful depictions of cannibalism and people in their forties having sex. Don't blame me. I told you.

Hope is merely another face of desire.

The bat was looking at Theo and Theo was having trouble following his own thoughts.The bat was wearing tiny sunglasses.Ray Bans,Theo could see by the trademark in the corner of one lens."I'm sorry, Mr.,uh- Case, could you take the bat off your head.It's very distracting." Him." Pardon?" It's a him.Roberto.He no like the light.

Your puny worm god weapons are useless against my superior Christmas Kung Fu.

On the radio, turned low, Reba sang of hard times with the full authority of a cross-eyed redheaded millionaire.

He had risked his freedom and his pride to buy her this, to acknowledge that part of her that everyone else seemed to want to get rid of.

Nothing evokes the prurient like puritanism.

Yeah, and don't think it's easy finding Ray-Bans in a fruit-bat medium.

Everything is a story. What is there but stories? Stories are the only truth.

One day the good times had to keep on rolling, and all of life's horseshit would turn to circuses.

Slowly and gently, Augustus Brine explained to the king of the Djinn about the illusion created by motion pictures. When he finished, he felt like he had just raped the tooth fairy in front of a class of kindergartners.

In another Christmas story, Dale Pearson, evil developer, self-absorbed woman hater, and seemingly unredeemable curmudgeon, might be visited in the night by a series of ghosts who, by showing him bleak visions of Christmas future, past, and present, would bring about in him a change to generosity, kindness, and a general warmth toward his fellow man. But this is not that kind of Christmas story, so here, in not too many pages, someone is going to dispatch the miserable son of a bitch with a shovel. That's the spirit of Christmas yet to come in these parts. Ho, ho, ho.

Winter denial: therein lay the key to California Schadenfreude--the secret joy that the rest of the country feels at the misfortune of California. The country said: "Look at them, with their fitness and their tans, their beaches and their movie stars, their Silicon Valley and silicone breasts, their orange bridge and their palm trees. God, I hate those smug, sunshiny bastards!" Because if you're up to your navel in a snowdrift in Ohio, nothing warms your heart like the sight of California on fire. If you're shoveling silt out of your basement in the Fargo flood zone, nothing brightens your day like watching a Malibu mansion tumbling down a cliff into the sea. And if a tornado just peppered the land around your Oklahoma town with random trailer trash and redneck nuggets, then you can find a quantum of solace in the fact that the earth actually opened up in the San Fernando Valley and swallowed a whole caravan of commuting SUVs.

What’s a Mennonite?” Vance asked. “Amish with blenders.

That was supposed to be the whole purpose of the Internet, you know. To share scientific information." "Not a Viagra- and porn-delivery system?

Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Accepting that her magic worked was a huge step, yet she was speaking to the evidence. But to be offered the power to rule the world? She wasn't sure her career in exercise instruction had prepared her for this.

Nothing says Christmas like a burning meth lab.

In business, as in politics, the public is ever so tolerant of those who slime.

He had tapped into the Zen of ignorance, the enlightenment of absurdity.

Blessed are the minimarshmallows,” the angel said, swooning a little.

Everyone thinks that it was the big strong caveman who got the girl, and for the most part, that may have been true, but physical strength doesn't explain how our species created civilization. I think there was always some scrawny dreamer sitting at the edge of the firelight, who had the ability to imagine dangers, to look into the future in his imagination and see possibilities, and therefore survived to pass his genes on to the next generation. When the big ape men ended up running off the cliff or getting killed while trying to beat a mastodon into submission with a stick, the dreamer was standing back thinking 'Hey, that might work, but you need to run the mastodon off the cliff.' And, then he'd mate with the women left over after the go-getters got killed.

Theophilus Crowe wrote bad free-verse poetry and played a jimbai drum while sitting on a rock by the ocean. He could play sixteen chords on the guitar and knew five Bob Dylan songs all the way through, allowing for a dampening buzz any time he had to play a bar chord. He had tried his hand at painting, sculpture, and pottery and had even played a minor part in the Pine Cove Little Theater’s revival of Arsenic and Old Lace. In all of these endeavors, he had experienced a meteoric rise to mediocrity and quit before total embarrassment and self-loathing set in. Theo was cursed with an artist’s soul but no talent. He possessed the angst and the inspiration, but not the means to create.

IKEA,” chanted the dead. “First we feast, then IKEA. First we feast, then IKEA.

My kingdom for a razor-blade cowcatcher and Cuisinart wheel covers to cut my path through this herd of ignorant peasant meat, she thought. Then: Whoa, I guess I really do need the meds.

Everyone at the bar turned toward The Breeze and waited, as if the next few words he spoke would reveal the true meaning of life, the winning numbers of the lottery, and the unlisted phone number of God.

Raziel! Go forth into the land and lay waste unto two good-size Wal-Marts, slay until blood doth flow from all bargains and all the buildings are but rubble — and pick up a few Snickers bars for yourself.

Don’t ask me how he got here, or what he really is. I think we’ve all learned over the years that the sooner we accept the simple explanation for the unexplained, the better chance we have of surviving a crisis.

She handed Lord Payne a steaming cup, and he took an immediate, reckless draught. A devilish smile curved her way. “Gunpowder tea? Well done, Miss Finch. I do enjoy a lady with a sense of humor.” Now this one…he was a rake. It was written all over him, in his fine dress and flirtatious manner. He might as well have had the word embroidered on his waistcoat, between the gold-thread flourishes. She knew all about men of his sort. Half the young ladies in Spindle Cove were either fleeing them or pining for them.

The position of hardware clerk in Pine Cove was highly coveted by the town’s retired male population, for nowhere else could a man posture well past his prime, pontificate, and generally indulge in the arrogant self-important chest-pounding of an alpha male without having a woman intercede to remind him that he was patently full of shit.

The constable lit the bong and lost himself in the scuba bubbles of sweet comforting smoke.

Creatures of the night were rising from their resting places and venturing forth to feed on their unsuspecting victims.

Life is messy. Would that every puzzle piece fell into place, every word was kind, every accident happy, but such is not the case. Life is messy. People, generally, suck.

If you think anyone is sane you just don’t know enough about them. The key—and this is very relevant in our case—is to find someone whose insanity dovetails with your own.

Life is messy. Would that every puzzle piece fell into place, every word was kind, every accident happy, but such is not the case. Life is messy. People, generally, suck. This

A Bluesman hates to be told what to do. Authority rankles him, inspires his rebellion, and plays to his need to self-destruct. A Bluesman doesn't take to having a boss unless he's on a chain gang (for the chain gang boss ranks below only a mean old woman and a sweet young thing in the hierarchy of the Blues Muse, followed closely by bad liquor, a dead dog, and the Man).

The visual conjured in Val's mind - all that parched, wrinkled flesh in furious friction - culminated in flames, as if some giant cosmic Boy Scout had decided to rub two old people together to make a fire.

In Breeze’s business one got used to running across the skeletons in people’s closets. If Billy’s skeleton wore women’s underwear, it didn’t really matter. Homosexuality on Billy Winston was like acne on a leper.

For the tourist, immersed in the oblivion of vacation spending, Cypress Street provided a bonanza of curious gifts to prove to the folks back home that they had been somewhere. Somewhere where they had obviously forgotten that soon they would return home to a mortgage, dental bills, and an American Express bill that would descend at the end of the month like a financial Angel of Death. And they bought. They bought effigies of

Molly stood over the stove, naked, except for a wide sash from which was slung the scabbard for her broadsword at the center of her back, giving the impression that she had won honors in the Miss Nude Random Violence Pageant. Her

Задименият бар бе изпълнен с блус и с хора, които се наливаха с алкохол, за да прогонят тъгата. Ако бяха кучета, до един щяха да бъдат навин, да се тъпчат с трева и да се мъчат да повърнат онова, което ги кара да се чувстват толкова зле.

The garlic bread lay there between them, steaming with implications. They, of course, must both eat it or neither could. Garlic bread meant garlic breath. There might be a kiss later, maybe more. There was just too damn much intimacy in garlic bread.

LIke many artists, Estelle lived in an atmosphere of chaotic funk, taken by observers to be artistic charm, but in fact no more than a civilized way of dealing with the relative poverty and uncertainty of cannibalizing one's imagination for money. (15/142)

I also enjoy canoeing, and I suppose you will smile when I say that I especially like it on moonlight nights. I cannot, it is true, see the moon climb up the sky behind the pines and steal softly across the heavens, making a shining path for us to follow; but I know she is there, and as I lie back among the pillows and put my hand in the water, I fancy that I feel the shimmer of her garments as she passes. Sometimes a daring little fish slips between my fingers, and often a pond-lily presses shyly against my hand. Frequently, as we emerge from the shelter of a cove or inlet, I am suddenly conscious of the spaciousness of the air about me. A luminous warmth seems to enfold me. Whether it comes from the trees which have been heated by the sun, or from the water, I can never discover. I have had the same strange sensation even in the heart of the city. I have felt it on cold, stormy days and at night. It is like the kiss of warm lips on my face.

Senti, abbiamo delle specie di regole qui". Indicò il cartello sul bancone. NIENTE CAMICIA O NIENTE SCARPE, NIENTE SERVIZIO. Molly abbassò lo sguardo su di sé. «Oh dio, me le sono scordate». «É tutto a posto». «Ho lasciato le scarpe in macchina. Faccio un salto e me le metto». «Sarebbe stupendo,Molly.Grazie». «Nessun problema». «So che sul cartello non c'è scritto, ma già che ci sei, potresti metterti anche un paio di pantaloni? Sarebbe sottinteso». «Certo» disse Molly con disinvoltura davanti al bancone. Uscì dal negozio e sentì che l'aria si era proprio rinfrescata. E già, i suoi jeans e le mutandine erano sul sedile del passeggero, accanto alle scarpe da tennis.

Естел се беше зарекла, че повече нито един мъж няма да я види гола. Навремето компромисът й се струваше разумен - отричане от малкото плътски удоволствия в полза на консумиране на сладкищи, които бяха в изобилие, пък и не я караха да се чувства сякаш е изневерила на паметта на Джо. Сега, след като беше нарушила клетвата си и лежеше на пухената постеля до този потен кльощав старик, който с език докосваше върното й (и явно не се смущаваше, че въпросното зърно се намира на гърда, клоняща към подмишницата на Естел, вместо да стърчи като купола на Тадж Махал), тя си даде сметка, че най-сетне е разкодирала загадъчната усмивка на Мона Лиза. Мона хем се е чукала, хем си е похапвала сладкиши.

Land and Sea The brilliant colors are the first thing that strike a visitor to the Greek Isles. From the stunning azure waters and blindingly white houses to the deep green-black of cypresses and the sky-blue domes of a thousand churches, saturated hues dominate the landscape. A strong, constant sun brings out all of nature’s colors with great intensity. Basking in sunshine, the Greek Isles enjoy a year-round temperate climate. Lemons grow to the size of grapefruits and grapes hang in heavy clusters from the vines of arbors that shade tables outside the tavernas. The silver leaves of olive trees shiver in the least sea breezes. The Greek Isles boast some of the most spectacular and diverse geography on Earth. From natural hot springs to arcs of soft-sand beaches and secret valleys, the scenery is characterized by dramatic beauty. Volcanic formations send craggy cliffsides plummeting to the sea, cause lone rock formations to emerge from blue waters, and carve beaches of black pebbles. In the Valley of the Butterflies on Rhodes, thousands of radiant winged creatures blanket the sky in summer. Crete’s Samaria Gorge is the longest in Europe, a magnificent natural wonder rife with local flora and fauna. Corfu bursts with lush greenery and wildflowers, nurtured by heavy rainfall and a sultry sun. The mountain ranges, gorges, and riverbeds on Andros recall the mainland more than the islands. Both golden beaches and rocky countrysides make Mykonos distinctive. Around Mount Olympus, in central Cyprus, timeless villages emerge from the morning mist of craggy peaks and scrub vegetation. On Evia and Ikaria, natural hot springs draw those seeking the therapeutic power of healing waters. Caves abound in the Greek Isles; there are some three thousand on Crete alone. The Minoans gathered to worship their gods in the shallow caves that pepper the remotest hilltops and mountain ranges. A cave near the town of Amnissos, a shrine to Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth, once revealed a treasure trove of small idols dedicated to her. Some caves were later transformed into monasteries. On the islands of Halki and Cyprus, wall paintings on the interiors of such natural monasteries survive from the Middle Ages. Above ground, trees and other flora abound on the islands in a stunning variety. ON Crete, a veritable forest of palm trees shades the beaches at Vai and Preveli, while the high, desolate plateaus of the interior gleam in the sunlight. Forest meets sea on the island of Poros, and on Thasos, many species of pine coexist. Cedars, cypress, oak, and chestnut trees blanket the mountainous interiors of Crete, Cyprus, and other large islands. Rhodes overflows with wildflowers during the summer months. Even a single island can be home to disparate natural wonders. Amorgos’ steep, rocky coastline gives way to tranquil bays. The scenery of Crete--the largest of the Greek Isles--ranges from majestic mountains and barren plateaus to expansive coves, fertile valleys, and wooded thickets.

Si crees que todo el mundo está bien de la azotea es que no conoces a la gente que te rodea. La clave, y esto es muy relevante en nuestro caso, es encontrar a alguien cuya locura encaje con la tuya.

So, there on the front step, he decided to go with total hysteria. He started breathing hard, pumping up some tears, got a good whimpering sob going, then opened the door with a dieseling back sniffle. He fell onto the welcome mat and let loose with a full fire-truck-siren wail.

The ocean there was bitterly cold, with an average visibility of eighteen inches, and a huge elephant seal rookery at the shore. Through the winter thousands of the rotund pinnipeds lay strewn across Pine Cove beaches like great barking turds, and although not dangerous in themselves, they were the dietary mainstay of the great white shark, which had evolved over 120 million years into the perfect excuse for never entering water over one’s ankles.

But Diablo had been built on a breakneck schedule during the energy scare of the seventies. The welders worked double and

Dressed in their red suits and fake beards, they rang their bells like they were going for dog-spit gold at the Pavlov Olympics.

Theo looked over at Gabe’s ex-girlfriend, considered the heels, the stockings, the makeup, the hair, the lines of her suit, her nose, her hips, and felt like he was looking at a sports car that he could not afford, would not know how to drive, and he could only envision himself entangled in the wreckage of, wrapped around a telephone pole.

Imagine it: a person of the Dark persuasion in their midst. What if he should ask for a vial of Afro-Sheen or some other ethnically oriented product with which they were totally unfamiliar? Why, the smoke alarms would melt, screaming like dying witches, when their collective minds steamed to a stop. Do we look like thrill-seekers? Wasn’t it enough that we had to put up that sign reading NO HABLA ESPANOL and acknowledge the existence of thirty percent of the population, even in the negative? No, we shall err on the side of safety, thank you, and in lieu of sand in which to bury our heads, we shall head into the back room.

He left the building, fury propelling his steps, and got into his car. Feeling the way he did just then, Ian realized he shouldn’t be driving, but he wasn’t about to sit outside this apartment. Not when Cecilia might think he sat there pining for her. He revved the engine and threw the transmission into drive. The tires squealed as he sped off, burning rubber. He hadn’t gone more than a quarter mile when he saw the red-and-blue lights of a sheriff’s car flashing behind him.

but all things considered, he could go a very long time not being run over by a Volvo again and feel just dandy about it. He

He had broken one of the cardinal rules—Never go to bed with anyone crazier than yourself—and he’d been loving life ever since. They

Die Behauptung, daß Effrom nicht besonders gut kochen konnte, war eine Untertreibung von ähnlichem Kaliber wie die Feststellung, daß es sich bei Völkermord um eine nicht besonders erfolgversprechende PR-Strategie handele.

»Du hast Heiden vernichtet? Ich dachte, die Erdgeister seien wohlgesinnt.« »Jeder hat mal Aussetzer.

Das Leben war Handeln, es gab keinen Frieden diesseits des Grabes.

»Das Prinzip Moral verstehe ich nicht.« »Das überrascht mich nicht im geringsten.«

doch ihre Gegenwart hatte in ihm stets das Gefühl ausgelöst, daß seine eheliche Treue lediglich eine absurde Wahnvorstellung war.

you think anyone is sane you just don’t know enough about them. The key—and this is very relevant in our case—is to find someone whose insanity dovetails with your own.

But Nestlé’s Crunch is a fine choice,” said Sam, trying to buy time, and keep the guy from going off on him. “A bit naive, but an undergrowth of ambergris and walnut gives it legs.

Strangely enough, Brine took comfort in the fact that this experience was invalidating every assumption he had ever made about the nature of the world. He had tapped into the Zen of ignorance, the enlightenment of absurdity.

Life is messy. People, generally, suck.

Last time I really got to know myself it turned out there was a whole gang of bitches in there to deal with. I felt like the receptionist at a rehab center.

You guys had a good run. You can’t expect her to lose her sense of judgment forever. You know, Theo, every now and then Eraserhead will hook up with Tinker Bell, or Sling Blade Carl will marry Lara Croft—that sort of thing gives us hope—but you can’t count on it. You can’t bet that way. Why, guys like us would always be alone if some women didn’t have a deep-seated streak of self-destruction, isn’t that right, Professor?

What’s morality?” “It’s the difference between what is right and what you can rationalize.

Never underestimate the number of people who would love to see you fail.

There is little more off-putting than the sound of hip-hop vernacular coming out of the mouth of a white, fortysomething, goony bird of a man.

We all needed a goal that got us out of bed in the morning and got us moving.

And then again, maybe he could just climb a stream of angel piss to heaven.

Love is where you find it.

To say that Effrom was not a particularly good cook was an understatement akin to saying that genocide is not a particularly effective public relations strategy.