Strictly Dickly Quotes

Philip K. Dick died and now we only need what is strictly necessary.

What bothered Easy Company’s officers, me included, was not Sobel’s emphasis on strict discipline, but his desire to lead by fear rather than example.

I emphasize this because some of my colleagues, for whose academic attainments I have great respect, argue" 'You assume too much; this is not proved; this is not strictly scientific. We disagree with your neurology and your psychiatry is misleading, therefore you must be wrong.' My reply has been, with all humility: 'Yes, of course,' and I have returned to the labor ward to be greeted by happy women with their newborn babies in their arms: 'How right you are, Doctor, it is so much easier that way.' That is what really matters to the clinician. He should use the method that gives the best and safest result from all points of view until something better is discovered.

strictly speaking, the ability to travel through time . . . for instance, she can’t go into the future. In a certain sense, she can’t go into the past either; what she does, as near as I can comprehend it, is start a counter-process that uncovers the prior stages inherent in configurations of matter. But

So you were going to shoot him,” Dick says. “That’s some badass fucking therapy, you guys. Damn! Strict Freudian, huh?

One of Duke’s very strict rules was to take his dick out any time a woman demanded it of him. He reached deep and put his favorite friend carefully on the fake wood. She turned and cringed. “Jesus, dicks are so fucking ugly. Why you think putting your grandmother’s jewelry on it will make it more fetching is beyond me.” Duke covered his dick’s ears and snarled back at Dove, “You’ll hurt his feelings.

Cocks had always been an incidental bonus to me, something I only cared about in proportion to how much I liked the guy it was attached to. Silly when flaccid, exciting or scary or off-putting when hard. It was a man’s words or expression or caresses that dominated my masturbatory fantasies—a specific man at that, be he a crush or a celebrity or a character from a movie. I never simply fixated on a dick. They were strictly secondary to the man himself.

He sits back on the couch, nonchalantly adjusting the suit jacket around his narrow hips as if his cock isn’t straining the shiny fabric of his slacks. “If you’re here strictly on business…” I lurch off the coffee table and stand on the opposite side. “Explain that.” I point at his erection. “Making money gets my dick hard.” Where did this heartless douche in a tin can come from?

For even the high lifted and chivalric Crusaders of old times were not content to traverse two thousand miles of land to fight for their holy sepulchre, without committing burglaries, picking pockets, and gaining other pious perquisites by the way. Had they been strictly held to their one final and romantic object—that final and romantic object, too many would have turned from in disgust.

Strictly dickly … Austerus verpa.

Harley told me that you guys were having a bit of trouble, but he seemed to think it was all his fault. So maybe I could bring him over and give him a chance to apologize? I know he loves you, Shawn. If there’s anything I can do to get you guys back together, then I’ll do it.” “He doesn’t need to apologize,” I burst out. “I’m the doofus in our relationship. I need to get on my knees and say I’m sorry by sucking him off until his brain comes out his dick. Not that I keep a strict count or anything, but I owe him about twenty-three.” There was a little pause in the conversation as we looked at each other, and I realized I had overshared. With my lover’s father. I winced. “TMI?” I asked tentatively. He swallowed visibly. “Just a bit.” “Sorry.” “No. Don’t sweat it. I’ll just focus on the fact that my boy has a healthy sexual relationship and leave the other images behind.” I couldn’t be sure, but I think he was trying not to laugh. I get that a lot.

When it comes to red flags, I’m starting to think my dick is into them. I’m starting to suspect it would like nothing more than to collect a big ole pile of red flags, cut them into smaller red flags, and have them made into seven days’ worth of Superman underpants. Not only that, I think it might start refusing to wear anything else.

You may recall the day we were over at Special Collections Library at Cal State Fullerton, and I revealed my mystic vision which came over me around March of this year, in which I saw the world—make that universe—entirely differently. Finally, in doing my homework on this, I found someone who had that worldview before me, and oddly it is a Greek philosopher who someone who flew here from France to interview me mentioned, around April. I had never read anything about Empedocles before. This French guy, who was doing his doctoral thesis on UBIK, wondered if my reading of Empedocles had influenced me, or had any other pre-Socratic Greek. I had to admit no. Evidently this French dude had correctly seen that UBIK expressed the worldview of Empedocles and to a lesser extent other Ionian Greeks or the Eleatic School. It was all meaningless to me, what he was saying, back then; how strange that my vision of the universe would conform in strict and exact detail to that of specific early Greek philosophers, views (as Lem pointed out in his article) long ago discarded. Also, from what I read about Empedocles, he had certain what we'd have to call religious or mystical experiences which he discussed only with his friends; from the evidence I'm convinced these experiences resemble mine—were in fact identical. Empedocles was smart enough not to talk about them openly, and I'm trying to do the same. Whatever hit me in March hit him back in 400 or so B.C. Reading about his interpretation of them I can much better understand them for my own purposes. Also, I might add, Empedocles was certain that some day, through transmigration, he would return.

It’s flat-out impossible to ignore the fact that the only accurate description I’ve come up with for his digits is dick fingers.

Think. How much do I need to be paid to allow Derek MacAvoy to suck my dick? One dollar. No. Jesus, no! Have some pride, Wyn, for fuck’s sake. This is a man who regularly spends four hundred dollars on a bottle of wine.

Seeing ourselves in a cosmic context that suggests our selfish biological evolution is not necessarily part of a deep cosmic design can help motivate us to take better control of our local and collective global behavior as a species. It can help sensitize us to some of the blinding adverse effects of cultural forces such as dogmatic ideologies that too often lead to unnecessary conflict. Seeing ourselves in a longer-term cosmic context can help us envision a healthier, more united human species, creating recognition of value for global engagement and collective global pursuits as opposed to pursuing strictly group or national interests. Seeing ourselves as a special fragile species that may be “on our own,” with potential cosmic significance, can indeed help us act as a global species—and the need to come together better as a species is evident on many fronts [.]

it is a custom among the more enterprising street boys, who are capitalists to a small amount, to set up their more needy fellows in business, on condition that they will pay half their earnings to the said capitalists as a profit on the money advanced. This is called "going whacks." It need hardly be said that it is a very profitable operation to the young capitalist, often paying fifty per cent. daily on his loan,—a transaction which quite casts into the shade the most tempting speculations of Wall Street. It is noteworthy that these young Bohemians, lawless as they often are, have a strict code of honor in regard to such arrangements, and seldom fail to make honest returns, setting a good example in so far to older business operators.

The difference between Gloria Knudson and Sherri was obvious; Gloria wanted to die for strictly imaginary reasons. Sherri would literally die whether she wanted to or not. Gloria had the option to cease playing her malignant death-game any time she psychologically wished, but Sherri did not.

A meager colonization program had been underway before the war, but now that the sun had ceased to shine on Earth, the colonization entered an entirely new phase. In connection with this a weapon of war, the Synthetic Freedom Fighter, had been modified; able to function on an alien world, the humanoid robot--strictly speaking, the organic android--had become the mobile donkey engine of the colonization program. Under U.N. law each emigrant automatically received possession of an android subtype of his choice, and, by 1990, the variety of subtypes passed all understanding, in the manner of American automobiles of the 1960s.