Sasquatch Quotes

Laistrygonians. Cannibals. Northern Giants. Sasquatch legend. Yep, yep. They are not birds. Not birds of North America.

Oh we both have screws loose. Just fucking look at us, Dex! We're in the mountains trying to find Sasquatch and we're arguing over the llama formerly known as Twatwaffle.

It’s great to live free of the other sheep until you hear the wolves howl.

You’ve gotta respect everyone’s beliefs." No, you don’t. That’s what gets us in trouble. Look, you have to acknowledge everyone’s beliefs, and then you have to reserve the right to go: "That is fucking stupid. Are you kidding me?" I acknowledge that you believe that, that’s great, but I’m not going to respect it. I have an uncle that believes he saw Sasquatch. We do not believe him, nor do we respect him!

Adversity introduces us to ourselves.

People only see the present through the lenses of their personal pasts.

Why are we always looking for someone else to save us instead of trying to save ourselves?

I heard a theory once that if aliens ever do come calling, they may very well be hostile, because the same brains that mastered spaceflight learned to think by hunting.

Either he grooms or he got tapped just enough by the fuzz-fairy to be over-the-top sexy but not so much that he's like Sasquatch in need of a spa day.

I would rather give a blowjob to Sasquatch and choke on a million pubic hairs,

The whole country rests on a system that sacrifices resilience for comfort.

Denial is an irrational dismissal of danger. Phobia is an irrational fear of one.

I think the human mind isn’t comfortable with mysteries. We’re always looking for answers to the unexplained. And if an answer can’t come from facts, we’ll try to cobble one together from old stories.

They all want to live “in harmony with nature” before some of them realize, too late, that nature is anything but harmonious.

...Mankind is not a race of noble savages - but primitive monsters hide inside us, elusive as Sasquatch...

Maybe some instinct told them it was time to swap evolution for devolution, reach back to who they were to take back what was theirs.

Different places, different ages, completely different cultures, and yet they came up with similar weapons and tactics. Is there something about how we’re wired, something universally human?

A lie will gallop halfway round the world before the truth has time to pull its breeches on. —CORDELL HULL, secretary of state to President Franklin Delano R

Injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you. That’s why most weapons of war are designed to injure instead of kill. Wounded are more of a drain than the dead.

According to Darwin’s Origin of Species, it is not the most intellectual of the species that survives; it is not the strongest that survives; but the species that survives is the one that is best able to adapt and adjust to the changing environment in which it finds itself.

Good Lord, I'm regretting this now," I muttered. "I have never - ever - smelled BO this bad in my life. And I once had s'mores wit a Sasquatch." "Hang out with him for awhile," Mort gasped. "Eventually it's not so bad." "Wow. Really?" "No. Not really.

We can't just mourn the deaths, we also have to celebrate the lives. We need Anne Frank's diary, but we also need her smile on the cover.

Selfless suffering feels good for short crusades, but as a way of life, it’s unsustainable.

Its better to be thought a fool, than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt.

The minivan sounded like Sasquatch singing Ninety-Nine Bottles of beer on the wall after drinking ninety-nine bottles of beer- not pretty.

Those poor bastards didn’t want a rural life. They expected an urban life in a rural setting. They tried to adapt their environment instead of adapting to it.

I couldn’t believe that something so beautiful could come from fire.

People only see the present through the lenses of their personal pasts.” Her lips soured. “Maybe that’s my problem too.

If there’s anything worse than visualizing your own death, it’s knowing that you caused it.

Are you going to deny that King’s leverage was based on the fear of Malcolm X?” Sensing an opening, I tried to break the siege. “An open hand works when the alternative is a fist.

Couldn’t get back up because his parents never let him get knocked down?

I trust my nose, ears, eyes. But my brain…

I turn to our father, searching for an ally. "So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species?" Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. "Date?" he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears. "You're not funny," Bronte says to me. "No, I'm serious," I tell her. "Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something?" "Date?" says Dad.

His massive frame occupies most of the doorway. He looks like a linebacker, or is it a quarterback I'm thinking of? The point is, he's a total Sasquatch. His t-shirt and preppy knit cardigan clash with his gargantuan body. Still, he's a decent eye candy. "What can I help you with?" she asks. Her eyes dart back and forth between me and the yeti.

The human heart can only absorb so much pain.

All positivity all the time. Learn to fly, even if it’s in the Hindenburg.

Your childhood is spent being nurtured, protected, loved unconditionally while your adulthood is spent searching in vain for substitutes. Mate, government, God…

People are the problem. Nature is your friend.

These trees are happy. Yes, I said it. Why wouldn’t they be, in this rich, soft, rain-washed soil.

A lie will gallop halfway round the world before the truth has time to pull its breeches on. —CORDELL HULL, secretary of state to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt

You can’t blame the people in Greenloop for having their cupboards bare. The whole country rests on a system that sacrifices resilience for c

And Professor Tongun, from Sudan, “Like a tree in the forest, America doesn’t hear foreign suffering.

I’m open to any discovery, as long as it’s based on hard, physical evidence. Facts are supposed to banish monsters… She sighs. …not invite them i

For one thing,I have school tomorrow. Two,my right leg is still in Sasquatch mode.

Usually you can only catch the Sasquatch blur of your own legendary moments in the side mirrors.

You make the bathroom look like a Sasquatch’s murder scene.

They think they’re at a petting zoo, or in a Disney movie. They’ve never learned the real rules, so they think they can just make up their own. This is called anthropomorphizing.

Knowing you saw something is different from knowing what you saw.

What do you call a dog on a leash? A meal on a string.

It's great to live free of the other sheep until you hear the howling of the wolves.

It’s a blessing and a curse, the human mind. We’re the only creatures on Earth that can imagine our own death. But”—she held up my spear—“we can also imagine ways to prevent it.

Fear and anxiety. I’ve lived with the latter all my life. Now it’s gone.

Facts are supposed to banish monsters… She sighs. …not invite them in.

Whenever someone said “Good luck” or “Godspeed,” I only heard “Better you than me.

Need. That’s what makes a village. That’s what we are now, and what holds us together is need. I won’t help you if you don’t help me. That is the social contract.” I couldn’t really process what she was saying.

After all, why would a doctor worry about the confidentiality of her patient if she didn’t believe that patient was still alive?

And with the final question, “Why didn’t they fight back?” came the inevitable dismissal. “Because it would not have made a difference.

A lie will gallop halfway round the world before the truth has time to pull its breeches on.

It takes a keen eye to find the trail.” “Yeah, well, did those keen eyes of yours also see you just stepped in a big pile of sasquatch poop?” Keefe asked.

We are really fucked up," I finally remarked. "Yeah, kiddo, we are. Now come one, let's go hunt Sasquatch.

I thought he was a mutant cannibal sasquatch, and he took me down like a bag of chips at a stoner party.

Linc was a Daddy Dom. Holy shit. "I thought they were a myth. Like sasquatch. Or unicorns," she muttered.

Sasquatch, not me!” Agent Fiona shakes her red tangles.

As the sasquatch swung its claws down, Noah threw

The Sasquatch are interdimensional people and can be interacted with if you open up a little and let go of fear. Simply allow yourselves to play around with this psychic stuff

A lot less energy to convert animal into animal than vegetable into animal. And the brain boost we got from that bonanza. Tools, language, cooperation. You can see the incentive for all the advances that make us human. More meat. Bigger brains. Bigger brains. More meat. I wonder what it looked like, when we first tasted fresh blood. What did we think? What did we feel? That moment when everything changed. From scavenger to predator. Hunted to hunter.

Those poor things. They sounded so scared and angry. And why wouldn’t they? What else should they feel when some horrible person released them into an environment they weren’t born for?

Humans are narcissists and we like a cryptid that resembles us. Sea monsters, globsters, out-of-place animals, the potentially not-extinct, and mythic beasts do not hold a candle to an ape-man.

I didn't know why I was immune to his charms, but to me Jake was like a fat-free cookie. Sure, he looked tempting, but I'd rather hold out for something with more substance and less aftertaste" -Samantha

B'gwus is famous because of his wide range of homes. In some places, he's called Bigfoot. In other places, he's Yeti, or the Abominable Snowman, or Sasquatch. To most people, he is the equivalent of the Loch Ness monster, something silly to bring the tourist in. His image is even used to sell beer, and he is portrayed as a laid-back kind of guy, lounging on mountaintops in patio chairs, cracking open a frosty one.

Seriously, like Steve Jobs playing the orchestra,*8 my orchestra is this land. When you’re here, surrounded by it, connecting to it on a visceral level, you realize that that connection is the only way to save our planet. That’s been the problem all along, destroying the natural world because we’ve created so much distance from it.

The only term I can think of is “bloodlust,” because that’s what it sounds like when chimps tear a monkey apart. It’s not like any other kill you’d ever see, not like when a leopard brings down a gazelle or even sharks rip into a seal. Those are cold, mechanical. Apes go crazy. Hopping and dancing. Don’t tell me they don’t enjoy it.

I swear,” Hal said, “this place is like the Bermuda Triangle. It’s friggin’ spooky. I went out to feed the monkeys last night, and I saw the Easter Bunny walking down the road with Sasquatch. And now there are rockets shooting into the sky from nowhere.

Holy tit fungus! Did you give Sasquatch an autopsy in here? God almighty, girl.” He waddled back into the hallway, this time holding his privates with both hands. “You balded the dick mitten. Nice. Let me see it.” He looked at her like she might drop trou simply because he suggested it. “I would rather lick a monkey’s armpit than show you my vagina.” Dove gave him the finger. “You know what I love best about a naked muff hole? It looks just like a camel’s dangly lips.” Duke extended his own lips to make them appear gummy and slack.

Any woman who spent her formative years surrounded only by other girls will tell you the same thing: you never really shake off the idea that boys are the most fascinating, beguiling, repulsive, bizarre creatures to roam the earth; as dangerous and mythological as a Sasquatch.

In the parking lot, she drove and parked in a dark area with no other cars around. She reclined her seat, and listened to music. Outside there were trees, a ditch, a bridge; another parking lot. It was very dark. Maybe the Sasquatch would run out from the woods. Chelsea wouldn’t be afraid. She would calmly watch the Sasquatch jog into the ditch then out, hairy and strong and mysterious—to be so large yet so unknown; how could one cope except by running?—smash through some bushes, and sprint, perhaps, behind Wal-Mart, leaping over a shopping cart and barking. Did the Sasquatch bark? It used to alarm Chelsea that this might be all there was to her life, these hours alone each day and night—thinking things and not sharing them and then forgetting—the possibility of that would shock her a bit, trickily, like a three-part realization: that there was a bad idea out there; that that bad idea wasn’t out there, but here; and that she herself was that bad idea. But recently, and now, in her car, she just felt calm and perceiving, and a little consoled, even, by the sad idea of her own life, as if it were someone else’s, already happened, in some other world, placed now in the core of her, like a pillow that was an entire life, of which when she felt exhausted by aloneness she could crumple and fall towards, like a little bed, something she could pretend, and believe, even (truly and unironically believe; why not?), was a real thing that had come from far away, through a place of no people, a place of people, and another place of no people, as a gift, for no occasion, but just because she needed—or perhaps deserved; did the world try in that way? to make things fair?—it.

Happiness: a good bank account, a good cook, and a good digestion.

Learn to be as analytical about things of which you are credulous as you are of those which you criticize.

We may not have had money, or perfectly pressed clothes, or Ivy League connections, but I was okay with that. Some kinds of class couldn't be bought anyway" -Samantha

Bigfoot's as American as apple pie and guns in schools.

You’re Mad Rogan!” Leon burst out. “Yes,” Mad Rogan said, his voice calm. “And you can break cities?” “Yes.” “And you have all this money and magic?” “Yes.” Where was Leon going with this? My cousin blinked. “And you look . . . like that?” Mad Rogan nodded. “Yes.” Leon’s dark eyes went wide. He looked at Mad Rogan, then glanced down at himself. At fifteen, Leon weighed barely a hundred pounds. His arms and legs were like chopsticks. “There is no justice in the world!” Leon announced. I giggled and almost choked on my pancake. Mother cracked a smile. “Can you play guitar too?” Leon asked. “Because if you can, I’ll go kill myself right now.” “No, but I can sing a little,” Mad Rogan said. “God damn it!” Leon punched the table. “Calm yourself,” Bern told him. “You shut up. You’re the size of Sasquatch. Leon pointed at Mad Rogan. “Are you seeing this? How is this fair?” “He’s fifteen,” I told Mad Rogan. “Fair is very important right now.” “You have time,” Mad Rogan said. “Yeah . . .” Leon shook his head. “No, not really. I can’t sing for sure, and I’ll never look like that.

Sasquatch, he’s an old man, an old man that lives on a mountain,” he explained. “He just comes in and looks at people and then he goes back out again. He just lives there all his life, never takes care of himself, and just smells real bad. Almost like, almost like that guy, like he is dirty, dirty human being smell is what it smelled like…a real deep, bad odor…It smelled like dirty bad underarms…The closer I got, the worse the smell got.

the Plains Indians considered the buffalo as a distinct people, the North-west Coast Indians regarded the salmon as a people. Equality is thus not simply a human attribute but a recognition of the creature-ness of all creation.

In the future, an adventurous sociologist might consider writing a paper that examines the “caste” system in anomalies research. The “nuts and bolts” UFO research people regard the “psychosocial” UFO researchers with disdain. UFO researchers in general regard the cryptozoologists with contempt. Cryptozoologists who embrace the possibility of a paranormal connection to Bigfoot sightings are generally viewed with derision because of the prevailing view that Sasquatch is an undiscovered primate species, not an interdimensional playmate of alien beings. Likewise, the paranormal researchers view the UFO researchers with disdain, while the ghost hunters keep their distance from everybody else. And all of this hostility and contempt is a vain and so far unsuccessful attempt to earn a small measure of respect and acceptance (and maybe funding) from mainstream science, a lofty but unlikely goal.

You’re Mad Rogan!” Leon burst out. “Yes,” Mad Rogan said, his voice calm. “And you can break cities?” “Yes.” “And you have all this money and magic?” “Yes.” Where was Leon going with this? My cousin blinked. “And you look . . . like that?” Mad Rogan nodded. “Yes.” Leon’s dark eyes went wide. He looked at Mad Rogan, then glanced down at himself. At fifteen, Leon weighed barely a hundred pounds. His arms and legs were like chopsticks. “There is no justice in the world!” Leon announced. I giggled and almost choked on my pancake. Mother cracked a smile. “Can you play guitar too?” Leon asked. “Because if you can, I’ll go kill myself right now.” “No, but I can sing a little,” Mad Rogan said. “God damn it!” Leon punched the table. “Calm yourself,” Bern told him. “You shut up. You’re the size of Sasquatch.” Leon pointed at Mad Rogan. “Are you seeing this? How is this fair?” “He’s fifteen,” I told Mad Rogan. “Fair is very important right now.” “You have time,” Mad Rogan said. “Yeah . . .” Leon shook his head. “No, not really. I can’t sing for sure, and I’ll never look like that.

You don’t want this butterblast, do you?” He took a huge bite of a round, golden pastry topped with giant sugar crystals. If it weren’t for her injuries, she would’ve leaped out of bed and wrestled it away from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you a bite. But first you need to go one solid hour without your stomach growling. So ignore me”—he took another giant bite of the butterblast—“and focus on Krakie. Or you can focus on Krakie’s new buddies.” He set three Prattles pins on her tray—a jaculus, a kelpie, and a sasquatch. “Meet Bitey, Scaley Butt, and The Stink—your new bandage buddies! We need to figure out the perfect place to put them. I think Scaley Butt should be near Krakie so it looks like they’re swimming together. And then Bitey could be close to The Stink so it looks like he’s trying to chomp him.” “You’re a very strange person, you know that?” she asked as he pinned the new creatures in place. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘awesome.’ I’m an awesome person—who stopped you from thinking about how hungry you are for, like, five minutes.” “And then reminded me,” Sophie noted with a stomach growl. “Oops. Well . . . okay, your new hour starts now!” It was a very long afternoon. But it was worth it when Keefe gave her the last bite of butterblast, which was chewy like a doughnut but tasted like pancakes hot off the griddle and was filled with some sort of thick, maple-y cream. It was quite possibly the most amazing thing she’d ever put in her mouth—and that was saying something, considering she lived in a world with mallowmelt and custard bursts and ripplefluffs and pudding puffs. “If you want another,” Keefe told her, “you’re going to have to let Ro carry you with me into the secret cafeteria.” “Not happening,” Elwin warned. Keefe smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.

Why do I go there? Where’s my, what do you call it, “ego-defense mechanism”?

It's great to live free of the other sheep until you hear the wolves howl.

Yvette’s eyes flashed this microburst of anger at her husband, so subtle but so hot that I felt my stomach gurgle. And when she turned that look on Dan, I nose-burped acid. She spat, “Do you know that? Do you know what mountain lions are like? Do you know that it wasn’t just scared by us all and trying to get away, and now it’s hurt unnecessarily, and what you did could’ve provoked it to attack…kill Palomino!

Pity them if you must Ayohka, but these monsters came here with greed and hate in their hearts. Murder was on their mind when they got out of their beds in the morning. They forfeited their own lives when they chose to wage war on the innocent people of this city. Those who surrender will be jailed without harm, but that is my only mercy. - Tsonoqua, Queen of the Bukwas Sasquatch

From behind them rose Charlie’s voice: “Now.” Noah swung his head back to see that Charlie wasn’t speaking to the sasquatches—he was speaking into a walkie-talkie.

But the knocking continued, louder now, insistent. Knock, knock, knock! She turned, heart pounding, and looked towards the trees. There, in the darkness, she saw two sets of gleaming eyes, crimson orbs watching her with an intensity that sent a fresh wave of terror through her body.

You see, these creatures, these… Bigfoots… as big and as strong as they are… they’re also more intelligent than people. Do you know why?" "Um, no. Why?" asked Carter. "Because they fear God more than they fear man." Said James, his eyes filled with conviction.

Clever girl, he thought, looking at her, purposefully taking his time, and slowly catching a whiff of the inebriating perfume of her long and wavy dark-brown hair. Her delicate scent reminisced of vanilla-infused hyacinth. He smiled and, although he was greatly tempted to move to first base, he felt it might push things a bit too fast.

Adorned in a cloak of long, matted, dark brown hair that shimmered under the gentle touch of rain, the Sasquatch intimidatingly stood its ground. Its chest and shoulders were reminiscent of a massive barrel, spanning well over four feet in width. Its legs, akin to large and sturdy tree trunks, exuded raw power. The creature's sheer muscularity and appearance were enough to render any man's nerves shaky. And sure enough, Carter felt his stomach queasy and his bladder on the verge of surrender.

Flanked on both sides, the relentless pursuit of the creatures intensified, their rampage tearing through the forest with a destructive force. The deafening cacophony of snapping branches and splintering trees reverberated through the air, echoing like the collision of runaway locomotives, piercing their very souls with terror. During the chaos, Ajax's presence remained steadfast. His strident barks kept reminding the family of his valiant presence as he kept up with the attackers. His resiliency to defend his family-pack resonated throughout the turmoil. God knows what they’ll do to him if they get their… hands on him, now thought Carter, fully admitting to himself that these were indeed Sasquatches—the dreaded Bigfoots of legend.

As he stood at the edge of the forest, his nostrils were suddenly assaulted by an indescribable stench. The smell was like nothing he had ever encountered before—as if the air itself had been tainted by rot and decay. It reminded him of the times he had accidentally left meat out in the sun for too long, except a hundred times worse. His eyes began to water, and his stomach churned with nausea. He doubled over, gripping his stomach tightly as his body heaved uncontrollably. The acrid taste of bile rose up his throat and spilled out of his mouth, landing in a puddle on the ground in front of him. There goes my morning coffee, thought Carter as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and gasped for fresh air.

I’ll stand guard,” said Abe. Duff rolled his eyes. “As you wish.” He sat on the ground and lowered his legs into the cave mouth. “If I have to fight a bear in this one, I’m going to be very upset with you.” “I don’t think there are bears this far south.” “Bigfoots, then. If I have to fight a sasquatch, that’s on your ass.” “I’ll take that chance.” Duff started to wiggle into the hole. “If I die in hand-to-hand combat with a Bigfoot, tell everyone I died doing what I loved.

Learn to fly, even if it's in the Hindenburg.

Did social conditioning bulldoze away their interesting bits too? I wondered as I followed Sasquatch into the bar, careful to breathe through just my mouth. There was a funk wafting off him that I didn’t want invading my world. Maybe we’d all had a fire inside of us, clawing to get out, and we’d kept it at bay to fit into someone else’s mold of what we should be as women.