“
It's the mortal cup Jace, not the mortal toilet bowl.
”
”
Cassandra Clare
“
I don't know you. The only thing I know about you is, you're reading this. I don't know if your happy or not; I don't know whether you're young or not. I sort of hope you're young and sad. If you're old and happy, I can imagine that you'll smile to yourself when you hear me going, he broke my heart. You'll remember someone who broke your heart, and you'll think to yourself, Oh yes, i remember how that feels. But you can't, you smug old git. Oh you'll remember feeling sort of plesantly sad. You might remember listening to music and eating chocolates in your room, or walking along the embankment on your own, wrapped up in a winter coat and feeling lonely and brave. But can you remember how with every mouthful of food it felt like you were biting into your own stomach? Can you remember the taste of red wine as it came back up and into the toilet bowl? Can you remember dreaming every night that you were still together, that he was talking to you gently and touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again?
”
”
Nick Hornby (A Long Way Down)
“
Clary wasn't sure what she'd expected -exclamations of delight, perhaps a smattering of applause. Instead there was silence, broken only when Jace said, "Somehow, I thought it would be bigger."
Clary looked at the Cup in her hand. It was the size, perhaps, of an ordinary wineglass, only much heavier. Power thrummed through it, like blood through living veins. "It's a perfectly nice size," she said indignantly.
"Oh, it's big enough," he said patronizingly, "but somehow I was expecting something… you know." He gestured with his hands, indicating something roughly the size of a house cat.
"It's the Mortal Cup, Jace, not the Mortal Toilet Bowl," said Isabelle.
”
”
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
“
And so the dentist says 'Rinse.' So you lean over, and you're lookin' at this miniature toilet bowl.
”
”
Bill Cosby
“
Son, never trust a man who doesn’t drink because he’s probably a self-righteous sort, a man who thinks he knows right from wrong all the time. Some of them are good men, but in the name of goodness, they cause most of the suffering in the world. They’re the judges, the meddlers. And, son, never trust a man who drinks but refuses to get drunk. They’re usually afraid of something deep down inside, either that they’re a coward or a fool or mean and violent. You can’t trust a man who’s afraid of himself. But sometimes, son, you can trust a man who occasionally kneels before a toilet. The chances are that he is learning something about humility and his natural human foolishness, about how to survive himself. It’s damned hard for a man to take himself too seriously when he’s heaving his guts into a dirty toilet bowl.
”
”
James Crumley
“
And of course, when you see your brother in the toilet bowl...there's a little voice that say, 'I wonder where he would go...'...if it hadn't been for his head...
”
”
Bill Cosby
“
Oh, its big enough,” he said patronizingly, “but somehow I was expecting…you know.” He gestured with his hands, indicating something roughly the size of a house cat.
“It’s the Mortal Cup, Jace, not the Mortal Toilet Bowl,” said Isabelle.
-Jace & Isabelle, pg.349-
”
”
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
“
And there’s vodka. In the bathroom.” “In the bathroom?” Simon raises his eyebrows. “Yeah. It’s, uh. Don’t tell my parents. It’s under the sink behind the toilet bowl cleaner. It’s the one in the vodka bottle. Don’t drink the toilet bowl cleaner.
”
”
Becky Albertalli (Leah on the Offbeat (Creekwood, #2))
“
The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or twice apiece, singing some song as loud as he could in time to the swishing brush; then he'd splash in some Clorox and he'd be through. ... And when the Big Nurse...came in to check McMurphy's cleaning assignment personally, she brought a little compact mirror and she held it under the rim of the bowls. She walked along shaking her head and saying, "Why, this is an outrage... an outrage..." at every bowl. McMurphy sidled right along beside her, winking down his nose and saying in answer, "No; that's a toilet bowl...a TOILET bowl.
”
”
Ken Kesey (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest)
“
My robust lexicon notwithstanding, I struggle to find the right words to describe just how much I despise, hate, abhor, revile, detest and categorically abominate anything to do with home maintenance. While cooking strikes me as an essentially creative act, cleaning seems little more than an exercise in decay management, enough to trigger an existential crisis each time the ring around the toilet bowl reappears.
”
”
Rachel Held Evans (A Year of Biblical Womanhood)
“
Taking care a white babies, that’s what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime. I know how to get them babies to sleep, stop crying, and go in the toilet bowl before they mamas even get out a bed in the morning.
”
”
Kathryn Stockett (The Help)
“
Perhaps the greatest strike against philosophical pessimism is that its only theme is human suffering. This is the last item on the list of our species’ obsessions and detracts from everything that matters to us, such as the Good, the Beautiful, and a Sparking Clean Toilet Bowl. For the pessimist, everything considered in isolation from human suffering or any cognition that does not have as its motive the origins, nature, and elimination of human suffering is at base recreational, whether it takes the form of conceptual probing or physical action in the world—for example, delving into game theory or traveling in outer space, respectively. And by “human suffering,” the pessimist is not thinking of particular sufferings and their relief, but of suffering itself. Remedies may be discovered for certain diseases and sociopolitical barbarities may be amended. But those are only stopgaps. Human suffering will remain insoluble as long as human beings exist. The one truly effective solution for suffering is that spoken of in Zapffe’s “Last Messiah.” It may not be a welcome solution for a stopgap world, but it would forever put an end to suffering, should we ever care to do so. The pessimist’s credo, or one of them, is that nonexistence never hurt anyone and existence hurts everyone. Although our selves may be illusory creations of consciousness, our pain is nonetheless real.
”
”
Thomas Ligotti (The Conspiracy Against the Human Race)
“
Austerity means to eliminate the comforts and cushions in your life that you have learned to snuggle into and lose wakefulness. Take away anything that dulls your edge. No newspapers or magazines. No TV. No candy, cookies, or sweets. No sex. No cuddling. No reading of anything at all while you eat or sit on the toilet. Reduce working time to a necessary minimum. No movies. No conversation that isn't about truth, love, or the divine.
If you take on these disciplines for a few weeks, as well as any other disciplines that may particularly cut through your unique habits of dullness, then your life will be stripped of routine distraction. All that will be left is the edge you have been avoiding by means of your daily routine. You will have to face the basic discomfort and dissatisfaction that is the hidden texture of your life. You will be alive with the challenge of living your truth, rather than hiding form it.
Unadorned suffering is the bedmate of masculine growth. Only by staying intimate with your personal suffering can you feel through it to its source. By putting all your attention into work, TV, sex, and reading, your suffering remains unpenetrated, and the source remains hidden. Your life becomes structured entirely by your favorite means of sidestepping the suffering you rarely allow yourself to feel. And when you do touch the surface of your suffering, perhaps in the form of boredom, you quickly pick up a magazine or the remote control.
Instead, feel your suffering, rest with it, embrace it, make love with it. Feel your suffering so deeply and thoroughly that you penetrate it, and realize its fearful foundation. Almost everything you do, you do because you are afraid to die. And yet dying is exactly what you are doing, from the moment you are born. Two hours of absorption in a good Super Bowl telecast may distract you temporarily, but the fact remains. You were born as a sacrifice. And you can either participate in the sacrifice, dissolving in the giving of your gift, or you can resist it, which is your suffering.
By eliminating the safety net of comforts in your life, you have the opportunity to free fall in this moment between birth and death, right through the hole of your fear, into the unthreatenable openness which is the source of your gifts. The superior man lives as this spontaneous sacrifice of love.
”
”
David Deida (The Way of the Superior Man: A Spiritual Guide to Mastering the Challenges of Women, Work, and Sexual Desire)
“
crying, and go in the toilet bowl
”
”
Kathryn Stockett (The Help)
“
It's never a good day when an ancient demon shows up on your toilet bowl.
”
”
Angie Fox (The Accidental Demon Slayer (Demon Slayer, #1))
“
The Paradox of Progress We live in an interesting time in that, materially, things are arguably better than they have ever been before, yet we all seem to be losing our minds thinking the world is one giant toilet bowl about to be flushed. An irrational sense of hopelessness is spreading across the rich, developed world. It’s a paradox of progress: the better things get, the more anxious and desperate we all seem to feel.
”
”
Mark Manson (Everything Is F*cked: A Book About Hope)
“
silence falls. i open my eyes and ready myself to move, glancing down at me feet bridging the toilet bowl. it's gross that i haven't been able to flush, but if it's yellow, let it mellow...and run like hell-o. i have to make a move for the door, and fast--undead Kirsty Mckay
”
”
Kirsty McKay (Undead (Undead, #1))
“
He is looking down into the toilet bowl. He sees a bright shiny red ball, about the size of his fist, covered with blood and bobbing jauntily in the yellowed water. It throbs in time
with Ernest’s pulse. It is his heart.
”
”
J. Mulrooney (The Day Immanuel Kant was Late: Philosophical Fables, Pious Tales, and Other Stories)
“
The reason why women think men should spend a lot of money on an engagement ring is because women are the ones who get to clean up all the poop (stains and toilet bowl swirls included) that is provided by every family member living in the house until they die.
”
”
Heather Chapple (Write like no one is reading)
“
Love is like
a toilet bowl.
One touch
and you too
could be in
deep shit.
”
”
Pamela August Russell (B is for Bad Poetry)
“
The reason is that even in a fantasy there is nothing even remotely erotic about a toilet bowl. In fact, considered as an accoutrement to a sexual encounter, a toilet bowl is a real cold shower.
”
”
Helen DeWitt (Lightning Rods)
“
We can deeply love our poison. We can love the taste of it, the scent of it, the comforting weight of it in our belly and find ourselves woken in the night with stabbing cramps, arms around porcelain toilet bowls, hurling every last bit until collapsing on bathroom tile, limp from dehydration. Sometimes parting with love is essential for survival. I’ve found the most tragic aspect of losing loved ones wasn’t the big boom of the fallout, but realizing later how much healthier I was without them.
”
”
Maggie Georgiana Young (Just Another Number)
“
In Japan, people believe that things like cleaning your room and keeping your bathroom spick-and-span bring good luck, but if your house is cluttered, the effect of polishing the toilet bowl is going to be limited.
”
”
Marie Kondō (The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing (Magic Cleaning #1))
“
Inside, I gagged. The floor was awash with excrement. Blocked toilet bowls brimmed with sewage. The place looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Nobody had noticed, because nobody who mattered ever went in there.
”
”
Geraldine Brooks (Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women)
“
I actually got so drunk I wrapped myself around the toilet bowl of the Scollay Square Cafe and got pissed and puked on all night long by a thousand sailors and seamen and when I woke up in the morning and found myself all covered and caked and unspeakably dirty I just like a good old Boston man walked down to the Atlantic Avenue docks and jumped into the sea.
”
”
Jack Kerouac (Vanity of Duluoz: An Adventurous Education, 1935-46)
“
Just middle-aged. Ideas used to grab me too. It's not that you get better ideas, the old ones just get tired. After a while you see that even dollars and cents are just an idea. Finally the only thing that masters is putting some turds in the toilet bowl once a day. They stay real, somehow. Somebody came up to me and said, 'I'm God,' I'd say, 'Show me your badge.
”
”
John Updike (Rabbit Redux (Rabbit Angstrom, #2))
“
All those posters and PSAs and health class presentations on body image and the way you can burst blood vessels in your face and rupture your esophagus if you can’t stop ramming those sno balls down your throat every night, knowing they’ll have to come back up again, you sad weak girl.
Because of all this, Coach surely can’t tell a girl, a sensitive, body-conscious teenage girl, to get rid of the tender little tuck around her waist, can she?
She can.
Coach can say anything.
And there’s Emily, keening over the toilet bowl after practice, begging me to kick her in the gut so she can expel the rest, all that cookie dough and cool ranch, the smell making me roil. Emily, a girl made entirely of donut sticks, cheese powder, and haribo.
I kick, I do.
She would do the same for me.
”
”
Megan Abbott (Dare Me)
“
After about half an hour I give up, thinking he must have stumbled home, when I find him. I'm in the girls' toilets, washing my hands, and I hear drunken poetry being recited from the end stall.
I walk down to it, push open the door, and there he is, lying on the ground, his head between the wall and the bowl. "Do you mind? I'm having a private moment here, Rachel."
I crouch on the floor beside him. "Here's a tip for a private moment: don't have it on the floor of the girls' toilets."
"The girls?" he asks.
"The added extras didn't give it away?"
He lifts his head and squints at the unit in the opposite corner. "Not a mailbox?"
"Not a mailbox, Henry," I say as I try, unsuccessfully, to haul him into a standing position.
”
”
Cath Crowley (Words in Deep Blue)
“
We’ve been through all this a thousand times. I won’t subject myself to the indignities of pregnancy. I won’t swish crap-laden diapers around in a toilet bowl ten times a day. Let someone else populate the earth. I’m not about to split off my soul, like some damned amoeba.
”
”
Clive Cussler (Raise The Titanic! (Dirk Pitt #4))
“
the toilet is an intimacy
only shared with parents when you are young
and once again when they are older
and with lovers when say on a Sunday
morning stretching into the bathroom
you wake to the sound of stream into bowl
and go to hug the naked body
stood with its back to you and kiss the neck
and taste the whole of the night on there
and smell the morning’s pale yellow loss
and take the whole of him in your hand
and feel the water moving through him
and knowing that this is love the prone flesh
what we expel from the body and what we let inside
”
”
Andrew McMillan (Physical)
“
Normal people hadn’t been molested or reared by a clinically psychotic mother, an alcoholic father, or a perversely mad psychiatrist who wore a Santa hat and performed toilet bowl readings. These were normal people, and I lived among them now. I thought, This must be what I want.
”
”
Augusten Burroughs (Lust & Wonder)
“
The official line is that, after the war, women couldn't wait to leave the offices and assembly lines and government agencies. But the real story was that the economy couldn't have men coming home without women going home, not unless it wanted a lot of unemployed vets. So the problem became unemployed women. "How you gonna keep us down on the farm after we've seen the world,"' she ad-libs to the old World War I tune. 'Enter the women's magazines, and cookbook publishers, and all these advertising agencies carrying on about the scourge of germs in the toilet bowl, and scuffs on the kitchen floor, and, my favorite, house B.O. Enter chicken hash that takes two and a half hours to prepare. I can just hear them sitting around the conference tables. 'That'll keep the gals out of trouble.
”
”
Ellen Feldman (Next to Love)
“
Bekka treated her role has Frankenstein's bride more like an audition to be Brett's bride. Every part of her body had been colored bright kelly green - even parts that her mother had stressed were 'not to be seen by anyone except God and the inside of a toilet bowl.' Instead of wearing a wig, Bekka had teased and then shellacked her own hair into a windblown cone and she'd used female-mustache bleach to create white streaks. Her seams, made of real suture thread, had been attached to her neck and wrists with clear double-sided costume tape because drawing them on with kohl would not have been 'honoring the character.' Her Costume Castle dress had been exchanged for something 'more authentic' from the Bridal Barn. If Brett didn't see his future in her heavily black-shadowed eyes tonight, he never would. Or so she believed.
”
”
Lisi Harrison (Monster High (Monster High, #1))
“
From the pit of his stomach a violent spasm of nausea rose up and seized his throat. He ran to the bathroom, barely able to stand, knelt down in front of the toilet and started to vomit. He vomited the whiskey he'd just drunk, vomited what he'd eaten that day as well as what he'd eaten the day before, and the day before that, and he felt, with his sweaty head now entirely inside the toilet bowl and a sharp pain in his side, as if he were endlessly vomiting up the entire time of his life on earth, going all the way back to the pap he was given as a baby, and when, at last, he'd expelled his own mother's milk, he kept vomiting poison bitterness, bile, pure hatred.
”
”
Andrea Camilleri (Excursion to Tindari (Inspector Montalbano, #5))
“
Maya, novels certainly have their charms, but the most elegant creation in the prose universe is a short story. Master the short story and you’ll have mastered the world, he thinks just before he drifts off to sleep. I should write this down, he thinks. He reaches for a pen, but there isn’t one anywhere near the toilet bowl he is resting against.
”
”
Gabrielle Zevin (The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry)
“
Hey,’ I yell, through the closed door. ‘Why is the water in your toilet bowl blue?’ ‘Because orange stripes are so last year,’ she yells back.
”
”
Toni Jordan (Nine Days)
“
There’s a TV turned low, directly in her line of sight, that now shows an advertisement featuring a smiling woman who appears to be in love with her toilet bowl cleanser.
”
”
Neal Shusterman (UnSouled (Unwind, #3))
“
I missed him like pissing dudes miss the toilet bowl.
”
”
Raven Kennedy (Crimes of Cupidity (Heart Hassle, #3))
“
The old method for dealing with bad dreams is to tell them aloud above the toilet bowl, and then flush them away.
”
”
Olga Tokarczuk (Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead)
“
I’m aware that New York is a toilet bowl–but an expensive porcelain one.
”
”
Meg Wolitzer (The Interestings)
“
From the outside looking in, trying to decipher Google’s search algorithms is like reading tea leaves in a toilet bowl…as it’s flushing. With the lights off.
”
”
Guy Kawasaki (What the Plus! Google+ for the Rest of Us)
“
If you see a toilet bowl without a ring, she thought, you know there’s a woman somewhere in the vicinity.
”
”
Stephen King (Sleeping Beauties)
“
The dark place with the lousy color TV that unshaven and unemployed men spend the day watching game shows on? Where the piss in the men’s room smells two thousand years old and there’s always a sodden Camel butt unraveling in the toilet bowl? Where the beer is thirty cents a glass and you cut it with salt and the jukebox is loaded with seventy country oldies?
”
”
Stephen King (The Shining)
“
Have you ever met a slave, Luke?" she asked. The question took me aback, coming from a black person. I stammered out a no. She said, "Really? You've never been to a mall? You've never watched shoppers with their carts piled with soda and microwaveable food? You've never stayed in a hotel where a fifty-year-old Mexican mother of six scrubs your shit stains off the toilet bowl? You've never watched TV for five hours straight?
”
”
Ryan Boudinot (Blueprints of the Afterlife)
“
Early on, Zinkoff's mother impressed upon her son the etiquette of throwing up: That is, do not throw up at random, but throw up into something, preferably a toilet or bucket. Since toilets or buckets are not always handy, Zinkoff has learned to reach for the nearest container. Thus, at one time or another he has thrown up into soup bowls, flowerpots, wastebaskets, trash bins, shopping bags, winter boots, kitchen sinks and, once, a clown's hat. But never his father's mailbag.
”
”
Jerry Spinelli
“
Sometimes it seems as though the only way a man can judge his own niceness, his own decency, is by looking at his relationships with women, or rather, with prospective or current sexual partners. It’s easy enough to be nice to your mates. You can buy them a drink, make them a tape, ring them up to see if they’re OK … there are any number of quick and painless methods of turning yourself into a Good Bloke. When it comes to girlfriends, though, it’s much trickier to be consistently honorable. One moment you’re ticking along, cleaning the toilet bowl, and expressing your feelings and doing all the other things that a modern chap is supposed to do; the next, you’re manipulating and sulking and double-dealing and fibbing with the best of them. I can’t work it out.
”
”
Nick Hornby (High Fidelity)
“
~Posters with torn edges hanging from rotten walls~
The doctor told me something once
she said
STOP DRINKING
I slapped her across the face with this
NO
I walked right out of that office
went right down to the hole
I told the bartender
WHISKEY, MOTHERFUCKER
he poured and he poured
and I slapped my money down on that bar
the man I had been driving around with
he just sort of sat there next to this hooker
she probably had something rotten
way down there between her legs
her eyes told of no soul
I emptied the bottle down my throat
and ordered some chips
the bartender told me
THEY'RE STALE
and I give him a
I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE,
GIVE ME SOMETHIN'
He slid me a ham sandwich dripping with cheap low-fat mayo and said
ENJOY
I went back to my room
and talked all night
so much conversation
it turned the toilet bowl pale
”
”
Dave Matthes (Strange Rainfall on the Rooftops of People Watchers: Poems and Stories)
“
In 1941 I was the star in one of the filthiest dramas of all time. I was a seaman, and went to the Imperial Cafe on Scollay Square in Boston to drink; I drank sixty glasses of beer and retired to the toilet, where I wrapped myself around the toilet bowl and went to sleep. During the night at least a hundred seaman and assorted civillians came in and cast their sentient debouchments on me till I was unrecognizably caked. What difference does it make after all? - anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what's heaven? what's earth? All in the mind.
”
”
Jack Kerouac (On the Road)
“
THE BILL FOR DARRELL BOB HOUSTON THE BEET IS THE MOST INTENSE of vegetables. The onion has as many pages as War and Peace, every one of which is poignant enough to make a strong man weep, but the various ivory parchments of the onion and the stinging green bookmark of the onion are quickly charred by belly juices and bowel bacteria. Only the beet departs the body the same color as it went in. Beets consumed at dinner will, come morning, stock a toilet bowl with crimson fish, their hue attesting to beet's chromatic immunity to the powerful digestive acids and thoroughgoing microbes that can turn the reddest pimento, the orangest carrot, the yellowest squash into a single disgusting shade of brown.
”
”
Tom Robbins (Jitterbug Perfume)
“
When Nathaniel arrived at his aunt’s house on Pinnacle Lane, carrying all of his belongings in one tiny suitcase, he arrived as a man many believed had never used his hands to point his genitals toward the toilet bowl, had never glanced down the cashier’s shirt as she made change, had never become angry at a traffic light, and never wanted more than what was given to him.
”
”
Leslye Walton (The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender)
“
Space Shuttle toilets have always been mounted on the floor, but you would not call them normal. The original shuttle toilet bowl featured a set of 1,200 rpm Waring blender blades positioned a brief 6 inches below the sitter’s anatomy. The macerator would pulp the feces and tissue—meaning, if all went well, the paper, not the scrotal, variety—and fling it to the sides of a holding tank.
”
”
Mary Roach (Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void)
“
I'm the bathroom master
I'm a real bowl blaster
Don't mess with me
'Cause I can mess it up faster
With just one flush
I can make a toilet gush
When my sister cleans it up
I just turn her to mush!
”
”
R.U. Slime (Stay Out of the Bathroom (Gooflumps #2 1/2))
“
Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I’m told. Not doing it the second time I’m told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow.
Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I’m old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don’t know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn’t fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that’s not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I’m called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV’s volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I’m going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly’s doll’s hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don’t grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don’t see until it’s too late. Giving my mother’s good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine’s Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don’t fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don’t like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth’s eating a candy bar I didn’t pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn’t put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.
”
”
Bob Thurber (Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel)
“
This quick foray onto the toilet has been no different an endeavor than any other time I’ve used the restroom in my adult life. Try then to imagine my surprise when instead of the waste going down the u-bend like the thousands of times previous, the bowl’s contents go not gentle into that good night.
Instead, they shoot directly up at me . . . at approximately 80 miles an hour.
As I leap backward, slamming into the glass shower door, the only thought going through my now-banged head is, When did I eat corn?"
Pretty in Plaid: A Life, a Witch, and a Wardrobe, or, the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomanical, Self-Centered Smart-Ass Phase
”
”
Jen Lancaster
“
Clarisse’s friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I’d used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn’t there. “Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking.” Her friends snickered. Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won’t. Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse’s grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me. I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall. She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away. As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started. The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn’t been spared. She was dripping wet, but she hadn’t been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.
”
”
Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson and the Olympians: Books I-III)
“
Most of us are living here because we like the idea of being able to walk out our front doors and smile at what we see. On my own front porch I have a palm tree growing in a blue toilet bowl . . . and on occasion I like to wander outside, stark naked, and fire my .44 Magnum at various gongs I’ve mounted on the nearby hillside. I like to load up on mescaline and turn my amplifier up to 110 decibels for a taste of “White Rabbit” while the sun comes up on the snow-peaks along the Continental Divide. Which is not entirely the point.
”
”
Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and Loathing at Rolling Stone: The Essential Hunter S. Thompson)
“
He rolled and thrashed in his bed, waiting for the dancing blue shadows to come in his window, waiting for the heavy knock on his door, waiting for some bodiless, Kafkaesque voice to call: Okay, open up in there! And when he finally fell asleep he did it without knowing it, because thought continued without a break, shifting from conscious rumination to the skewed world of dreams with hardly a break, like a car going from drive to low. Even in his dreams he thought he was awake, and in his dreams he committed suicide over and over: burned himself; bludgeoned himself by standing under an anvil and pulling a rope; hanged himself; blew out the stove’s pilot lights and then turned on the oven and all four burners; shot himself; defenestrated himself; stepped in front of a moving Greyhound bus; swallowed pills; swallowed Vanish toilet bowl disinfectant; stuck a can of Glade Pine Fresh aerosol in his mouth, pushed the button, and inhaled until his head floated off into the sky like a child’s balloon; committed hara-kiri while kneeling in a confessional at St. Dom’s, confessing his self-murder to a dumbfounded young priest even as his guts accordioned out onto the bench like beef stew, performing an act of contrition in a fading, bemused voice as he lay in his blood and the steaming sausages of his intestines. But most vividly, over and over, he saw himself behind the wheel of the LTD, racing the engine a little in the closed garage, taking deep breaths and leafing through a copy of National Geographic, examining pictures of life in Tahiti and Aukland and the Mardi Gras in New Orleans, turning the pages ever more slowly, until the sound of the engine faded to a faraway sweet hum and the green waters of the South Pacific inundated him in rocking warmth and took him down to a silver fathom.
”
”
Stephen King (Roadwork)
“
snuck into the vacant copilot’s room next to our victim, carrying a bucket with the sea cucumber. I crept through the room, being careful not to make any noise. I removed the sea cucumber and slid it into our victim’s toilet, being careful not to splash any water. The sea cucumber looked like a world record, giant turd. It was jet black, about fourteen inches long and thick around as a coke can. Neither of our pilots was a scuba diver and I guessed they would never suspect the giant turd was really a sea creature. The humongous turd impersonator lay motionless in the bottom of the toilet bowl, leaking a faint reddish dye. When they discovered the state of the toilet the pilots began a heated argument, blaming each other for not flushing the disgusting mound of excrement. This was a serious breach of etiquette for an officer and gentleman. The hapless pilots finally tried flushing and the toilet backed up and flooded the bathroom. They had to summon a plumber who immediately recognized the turd for what it was, a sea cucumber, and said it must have somehow crawled up through the pipes. Neither pilot ever guessed they were the victims of a practical joke. The prank was flawless and I still have the picture of the cucumber in their toilet.
”
”
William F. Sine (Guardian Angel: Life and Death Adventures with Pararescue, the World's Most Powerful Commando Rescue Force)
“
If we go, how long will it be before you find the local hole in Sidewinder? a voice inside him asked. The dark place with the lousy color TV that unshaven and unemployed men spend the day watching game shows on? Where the piss in the men’s room smells two thousand years old and there’s always a sodden Camel butt unraveling in the toilet bowl? Where the beer is thirty cents a glass and you cut it with salt and the jukebox is loaded with seventy country oldies? How long? Oh Christ, he was so afraid it wouldn’t be long at all. “I can’t win,” he said, very softly. That was it. It was like trying to play solitaire with one of the aces missing from the deck.
”
”
Stephen King (The Shining (The Shining, #1))
“
I knew what I had to do, and I’d even prepared myself when the world’s most magnificent beta fish stopped picking at the multicolored flakes. I swallowed a lump in my throat and, without special words or ceremony, dumped the bowl’s contents into the watery grave. I don’t remember what I had named the fish—only that it missed the bowl and stuck to the back rim of the toilet.
”
”
Brittni Chenelle (Valerie (Eleven Wings, #1))
“
It's an old story," Julia says, leaning back in her chair. "Only for me, it's new. I went to school for industrial design. All my life I've been fascinated by chairs - I know it sounds silly, but it's true. Form meets purpose in a chair. My parents thought I was crazy, but somehow I convinced them to pay my way to California. To study furniture design. I was all excited at first. It was totally unlike me to go so far away from home. But I was sick of the cold and sick of the snow. I figured a little sun might change my life. So I headed down to L.A. and roomed with a friend of an ex-girlfriend of my brother's. She was an aspiring radio actress, which meant she was home a lot. At first, I loved it. I didn't even let the summer go by. I dove right into my classes. Soon enough, I learned I couldn't just focus on chairs. I had to design spoons and toilet-bowl cleaners and thermostats. The math never bothered me, but the professors did. They could demolish you in a second without giving you a clue if how to rebuild. I spent more and more time in the studio, with other crazed students who guarded their projects like toy-jealous kids. I started to go for walks. Long walks. I couldn't go home because my roommate was always there. The sun was too much for me, so I'd stay indoors. I spent hours in supermarkets, walking aisle to aisle, picking up groceries and then putting them back. I went to bowling alleys and pharmacies. I rode buses that kept their lights on all night. I sat in Laundromats because once upon a time Laundromats made me happy. But now the hum of the machines sounded like life going past. Finally, one night I sat too long in the laundry. The woman who folded in the back - Alma - walked over to me and said, 'What are you doing here, girl?' And I knew that there wasn't any answer. There couldn't be any answer. And that's when I knew it was time to go.
”
”
David Levithan (Are We There Yet?)
“
In Hawaii...there's a spot they call the Toilet Bowl. There're these huge whirlpools because it's where the incoming and outgoing tides meet and crash into each other. It goes around and around like when you flush a toilet. If you wipe out there, you get pulled underwater and it's hard to float up again. Depending on the waves you might never make it back to the surface. So there you are, underwater, pounded by waves, and there's nothing you can do. Flailing around's not gonna get you anywhere. You'll just use up your energy. You've never been so scared in your life. But unless you get over that fear you'll never be a real surfer. You have to face death, get to really know it, then overcome it. When you're down in that whirlpool you start thinking about all kinds of things. It's like you get to be friends with death, have a heart-to-heart talk with it.
”
”
Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)
“
Fred gets married and on his wedding night he calls his Father for some tips on what to do, since he has never been with a woman before. "So what do I do first?"? His father replied, "Take her clothes off and lay her on the bed." 5 minutes later Fred’s on the phone again. "She’s naked and in bed, what do I do now??? His father can’t believe what he is hearing, "Take your damn clothes off and get into bed with her." After another 5 minutes poor Fred is on the phone again. "Dad, I’m naked and in bed with her, what do I do now?" His dad’s patience is now running thin so he says, "Shit son! Do I have to spell everything out for you? Just put the hardest thing on your body where she pees. Goodnight!!!" Just when the old man starts snoring, his son is on the phone once again. "Ok Dad, I have my head in the toilet bowl what do I do next" "DROWN YOURSELF, YOU F**KING IDIOT!!
”
”
Adam Smith (Funny Jokes: Ultimate LoL Edition (Jokes, Dirty Jokes, Funny Anecdotes, Best jokes, Jokes for Adults) (Comedy Central Book 1))
“
According to Mrs. Portleigh, a bad boy had once stolen some of the communion-bread when the tray was passed and put it in his pocket. He took it home and threw it into the toilet-bowl just to see what would happen. At once—or so Mrs. Portleigh reported to her rapt Little Worshippers—the water in the toilet-bowl had turned a bright red. It was the Blood of Christ, she said, and it had appeared to that little boy because he had done a very bad act called a BLASPHEMY.
”
”
Stephen King (It)
“
Over the next month, when I’d wake up, my mind was filled with colors. The apartment began to feel less cavernous to me. One time I awoke to find my hair had been cut off, like a boy’s, and there were long blond hairs stuck to the inside of the toilet bowl. I imagined sitting on the toilet with a towel over my shoulders, Ping Xi standing above me, snipping away. In the mirror, I looked bold and sprightly. I thought I looked good. I wrote Post-it notes requesting fresh fruits, mineral water, grilled salmon from “a good Japanese restaurant.” I asked for a candle to burn while I bathed. During this period, my waking hours were spent gently, lovingly, growing reaccustomed to a feeling of cozy extravagance. I put on a little weight, and so when I lay down on the living room floor, my bones didn’t hurt. My face lost its mean edge. I asked for flowers. “Lilies.” “Birds of paradise.” “Daisies.” “A branch of catkins.” I jogged in place, did leg lifts, push-ups. It was easier and easier to pass the time between getting up and going down.
”
”
Ottessa Moshfegh (My Year of Rest and Relaxation)
“
Imagine you live on a planet where the dominant species is far more intellectually sophisticated than human beings but often keeps humans as companion animals. They are called the Gorns. They communicate with each other via a complex combination of telepathy, eye movements & high-pitched squeaks, all completely unintelligible & unlearnable by humans, whose brains are prepared for verbal language acquisition only.
Humans sometimes learn the meaning of individual sounds by repeated association with things of relevance to them. The Gorns & humans bond strongly but there are many Gorn rules that humans must try to assimilate with limited information & usually high stakes. You are one of the lucky humans who lives with the Gorns in their dwelling. Many other humans are chained to small cabanas in the yard or kept in outdoor pens of varying size. They are so socially starved they cannot control their emotions when a Gorn goes near them. The Gorns agree that they could never be House-Humans.
The dwelling you share with your Gorn family is filled with water-filled porcelain bowls.Every time you try to urinate in one,nearby Gorn attack you. You learn to only use the toilet when there are no Gorns present. Sometimes they come home & stuff your head down the toilet for no apparent reason. You hate this & start sucking up to the Gorns when they come home to try & stave this off but they view this as evidence of your guilt. You are also punished for watching videos, reading books, talking to other human beings, eating pizza or cheesecake, & writing letters. These are all considered behavior problems by the Gorns.
To avoid going crazy, once again you wait until they are not around to try doing anything you wish to do. While they are around, you sit quietly, staring straight ahead. Because they witness this good behavior you are so obviously capable of, they attribute to “spite” the video watching & other transgressions that occur when you are alone. Obviously you resent being left alone, they figure. You are walked several times a day and left crossword puzzle books to do. You have never used them because you hate crosswords; the Gorns think you’re ignoring them out of revenge. Worst of all, you like them. They are, after all, often nice to you. But when you smile at them, they punish you, likewise for shaking hands. If you apologize they punish you again.
You have not seen another human since you were a small child. When you see one you are curious, excited & afraid. You really don’t know how to act. So, the Gorn you live with keeps you away from other humans. Your social skills never develop.
Finally, you are brought to “training” school. A large part of the training consists of having your air briefly cut off by a metal chain around your neck. They are sure you understand every squeak & telepathic communication they make because sometimes you get it right. You are guessing & hate the training. You feel pretty stressed out a lot of the time. One day, you see a Gorn approaching with the training collar in hand. You have PMS, a sore neck & you just don’t feel up to the baffling coercion about to ensue. You tell them in your sternest voice to please leave you alone & go away. The Gorns are shocked by this unprovoked aggressive behavior. They thought you had a good temperament.
They put you in one of their vehicles & take you for a drive. You watch the attractive planetary landscape going by & wonder where you are going. You are led into a building filled with the smell of human sweat & excrement. Humans are everywhere in small cages. Some are nervous, some depressed, most watch the goings on on from their prisons. Your Gorns, with whom you have lived your entire life, hand you over to strangers who drag you to a small room. You are terrified & yell for your Gorn family to help you. They turn & walk away.You are held down & given a lethal injection. It is, after all, the humane way to do it.
”
”
Jean Donaldson (The Culture Clash: A Revolutionary New Way to Understanding the Relationship Between Humans and Domestic Dogs)
“
What did Kavinsky say about it?” Chris asks me.
“Nothing yet. He’s still at lacrosse practice.”
My phone immediately starts to buzz, and the three of us look at each other, wide-eyed. Margot picks it up and looks at it. “It’s Peter!” She hot-potatoes the phone to me. “Let’s give them some privacy,” she says, nudging Chris. Chris shrugs her off.
I ignore both of them and answer the phone. “Hello.” My voice comes out thin as a reed.
Peter starts talking fast. “Okay, I’ve seen the video, and the first thing I’m going to say to you is don’t freak out.” He’s breathing hard; it sounds like he’s running.
“Don’t freak out? How can I not? This is terrible. Do you know what they’re all saying about me in the comments? That I’m a slut. They think we’re having sex in that video, Peter.”
“Never read the comments, Covey! That’s the first rule of--”
“If you say ‘Fight Club’ to me right now, I will hang up on you.”
“Sorry. Okay, I know it sucks but--”
“It doesn’t ‘suck.’ It’s a literal nightmare. My most private moment, for everybody to see. I’m completely humiliated. The things people are saying--” My voice breaks. Kitty and Margot and Chris are all looking at me with sad eyes, which makes me feel even sadder.
“Don’t cry, Lara Jean. Please don’t cry. I promise you I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get whoever runs Anonybitch to take it down.”
“How? We don’t even know who they are! And besides, I bet our whole school’s seen it by now. Teachers, too. I know for a fact that teachers look at Anonybitch. I was in the faculty lounge once and I overheard Mr. Filipe and Ms. Ryan saying how bad it makes our school look. And what about college admission boards and our future employers?”
Peter guffaws. “Future employers? Covey, I’ve seen much worse. Hell, I’ve seen worse pictures of me on here. Remember that picture of me with my head in a toilet bowl, and I’m naked?”
I shudder. “I never saw that picture. Besides, that’s you; that’s not me. I don’t do that kind of stuff.”
“Just trust me, okay? I promise I’ll take care of it.”
I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. Peter is powerful. If anyone could fix such a thing, it would be him.
“Listen, I’ve gotta go. Coach is gonna kick my ass if he sees me on the phone. I’ll call you tonight, okay? Don’t go to sleep.”
I don’t want to hang up. I wish we could talk longer. “Okay,” I whisper.
When I hang up, Margot, Chris, and Kitty are all three staring at me.
“Well?” Chris says.
“He says he’ll take care of it.”
Smugly Kitty says, “I told you so.”
“What does that even mean, ‘he’ll take care of it’?” Margot asks. “He hasn’t exactly proven himself to be responsible.”
“It’s not his fault,” Kitty and I say at the same time.
”
”
Jenny Han (P.S. I Still Love You (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #2))
“
I was sleeping with my head on the wooden arm of a seat as six attendants of the theater converged with their night’s total of swept-up rubbish and created a huge dusty pile that reached to my nose as I snored head down – till they almost swept me away too. This was reported to me by Dean, who was watching from ten seats behind. All the cigarette butts, the bottles, the matchbooks, the come and the gone were swept up in this pile. Had they taken me with it, Dean would never have seen me again. He would have had to roam the entire United States and look in every garbage pail from coast to coast before he found me embryonically convoluted among the rubbishes of my life, his life, and the life of everybody concerned and not concerned. What would I have said to him from my rubbish womb? ‘Don’t bother me, man, I’m happy where I am. You lost me one night in Detroit in August nineteen forty-nine. What right have you to come and disturb my reverie in this pukish can?’ In 1942 I was the star in one of the filthiest dramas of all time. I was a seaman, and went to the Imperial Café on Scollay Square in Boston to drink; I drank sixty glasses of beer and retired to the toilet, where I wrapped myself around the toilet bowl and went to sleep. During the night at least a hundred seamen and assorted civilians came in and cast their sentient debouchments on me till I was unrecognizably caked. What difference does it make after all? – anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what’s heaven? what’s earth? All in the mind.
”
”
Jack Kerouac (On the Road)
“
I’m so stressed that a weird Olympic-style commentary starts up in my head.
And here we have Zelah Green, the fourteen-year-old champion of rituals, attempting the
afternoon toilet-touching event for the first time …
I take my first faltering step towards the rim.
And she’s approaching the target, booms the voice. Steady approach, good footwork …
My right hand, naked and trembling, is now hovering over the inside of the toilet.
Will she set a new world record? screams the voice. Will Zelah Green take the gold medal for
bravery and/or total stupidity?
‘I’m going in!’ I say.
I skim the curved cool surface of the bowl with the fingertips of my right hand and jump back as if
I’ve been electrified.
And she’s done it! shrieks the commentator. Zelah Green wins the gold medal for toilet touching!
”
”
Vanessa Curtis
“
Comparing marriage to football is no insult. I come from the South where football is sacred. I would never belittle marriage by saying it is like soccer, bowling, or playing bridge, never. Those images would never work, only football is passionate enough to be compared to marriage. In other sports, players walk onto the field, in football they run onto the field, in high school ripping through some paper, in college (for those who are fortunate enough) they touch the rock and run down the hill onto the field in the middle of the band. In other sports, fans cheer, in football they scream. In other sports, players ‘high five’, in football they chest, smash shoulder pads, and pat your rear. Football is a passionate sport, and marriage is about passion.
In football, two teams send players onto the field to determine which athletes will win and which will lose, in marriage two families send their representatives forward to see which family will survive and which family will be lost into oblivion with their traditions, patterns, and values lost and forgotten.
Preparing for this struggle for survival, the bride and groom are each set up. Each has been led to believe that their family’s patterns are all ‘normal,’ and anyone who differs is dense, naïve, or stupid because, no matter what the issue, the way their family has always done it is the ‘right’ way. For the premarital bride and groom in their twenties, as soon as they say, “I do,” these ‘right’ ways of doing things are about to collide like two three hundred and fifty pound linemen at the hiking of the ball. From “I do” forward, if not before, every decision, every action, every goal will be like the line of scrimmage.
Where will the family patterns collide?
In the kitchen. Here the new couple will be faced with the difficult decision of “Where do the cereal bowls go?” Likely, one family’s is high, and the others is low. Where will they go now?
In the bathroom. The bathroom is a battleground unmatched in the potential conflicts. Will the toilet paper roll over the top or underneath? Will the acceptable residing position for the lid be up or down? And, of course, what about the toothpaste? Squeeze it from the middle or the end?
But the skirmishes don’t stop in the rooms of the house, they are not only locational they are seasonal. The classic battles come home for the holidays.
Thanksgiving. Which family will they spend the noon meal with and which family, if close enough, will have to wait until the nighttime meal, or just dessert if at all?
Christmas. Whose home will they visit first, if at all? How much money will they spend on gifts for his family? for hers?
Then comes for many couples an even bigger challenge – children of their own!
At the wedding, many couples take two candles and light just one often extinguishing their candle as a sign of devotion. The image is Biblical. The Bible is quoted a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one. What few prepare them for is the upcoming struggle, the conflict over the unanswered question: the two shall become one, but which one? Two families, two patterns, two ways of doing things, which family’s patterns will survive to play another day, in another generation, and which will be lost forever? Let the games begin.
”
”
David W. Jones (The Enlightenment of Jesus: Practical Steps to Life Awake)
“
4Paul Gaydos
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The Way of the Superior Man Quotes
The Way of the Superior Man by David Deida
The Way of the Superior Man: A Spiritual Guide to...
by David Deida
Read
Austerity means to eliminate the comforts and cushions in your life that you have learned to snuggle into and lose wakefulness. Take away anything that dulls your edge. No newspapers or magazines. No TV. No candy, cookies, or sweets. No sex. No cuddling. No reading of anything at all while you eat or sit on the toilet. Reduce working time to a necessary minimum. No movies. No conversation that isn't about truth, love, or the divine.
If you take on these disciplines for a few weeks, as well as any other disciplines that may particularly cut through your unique habits of dullness, then your life will be stripped of routine distraction. All that will be left is the edge you have been avoiding by means of your daily routine. You will have to face the basic discomfort and dissatisfaction that is the hidden texture of your life. You will be alive with the challenge of living your truth, rather than hiding form it.
Unadorned suffering is the bedmate of masculine growth. Only by staying intimate with your personal suffering can you feel through it to its source. By putting all your attention into work, TV, sex, and reading, your suffering remains unpenetrated, and the source remains hidden. Your life becomes structured entirely by your favorite means of sidestepping the suffering you rarely allow yourself to feel. And when you do touch the surface of your suffering, perhaps in the form of boredom, you quickly pick up a magazine or the remote control.
Instead, feel your suffering, rest with it, embrace it, make love with it. Feel your suffering so deeply and thoroughly that you penetrate it, and realize its fearful foundation. Almost everything you do, you do because you are afraid to die. And yet dying is exactly what you are doing, from the moment you are born. Two hours of absorption in a good Super Bowl telecast may distract you temporarily, but the fact remains. You were born as a sacrifice. And you can either participate in the sacrifice, dissolving in the giving of your gift, or you can resist it, which is your suffering.
By eliminating the safety net of comforts in your life, you have the opportunity to free fall in this moment between birth and death, right through the hole of your fear, into the unthreatenable openness which is the source of your gifts. The superior man lives as this spontaneous sacrifice of love.
”
”
David Deida
“
It’s the Mortal Cup, Jace, not the Mortal Toilet Bowl,
”
”
Cassandra Clare (City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1))
“
At times, I find my cats near the toilet with a look of suspicion, like they’re asking, “Why is there a lid on our water bowl?
”
”
David Hammons (The Bean Straw: The Chicken Factor)
“
I hate to admit I was enjoying this experiment in naked confrontation. There are not many occasions in a fellow’s life when he gets to really dig into the primal meat of fighting for his life while not wearing a stitch of clothing and armed only with a knife and toilet bowl cleaner.
”
”
James Crawford (Blood Soaked and Contagious (Blood Soaked #1))
“
it is the hallowed Scientific Method which dooms the "theoretical science" of Darwinian Evolution to the toilet bowl of pseudo-scientific error.
”
”
M.S. King (God vs. Darwin: The Logical Supremacy of Intelligent Design Creationism Over Evolution)
“
Drop your blinders and raise the sewer to eye level; admit you’re swimming in shit. If you don’t acknowledge the turd hurtling down the drain toward you, you can’t dodge it. I’ve come to get out of the toilet bowl and become the commode that flushes the shit.
”
”
Karen Marie Moning (Burned (Fever #7))
“
She worshiped the ground he walked on and would even eat out of the toilet bowl he took a dump in if it came down to it.
”
”
Angel Williams (Fiending for His Love)
“
Did we mention the giant toilet bowl? Wet ’n Wild has an attraction dubbed The Storm. The ride actually looks like a lot of fun, but in all honesty it strongly resembles a huge commode. Riders wash down a chute to gain speed, then circle around a huge bowl before dropping into a pool below. This must be how that goldfish you flushed in third grade felt.
”
”
Bob Sehlinger (Beyond Disney: The Unofficial Guide to Universal Orlando, SeaWorld & the Best of Central Florida)
“
SOLUTION: Pour a small cupful of mouthwash in the toilet bowl. After fifteen to twenty minutes, dip a toilet brush in the water and give all surfaces a quick wipe. Just one flush and you’re done.
”
”
Lisa Katayama (Urawaza: Secret Everyday Tips and Tricks from Japan)
“
There were stories, told about Ukrainians, who had never previously seen toilets. They washed their feet in the toilet bowl. Others bought fish and kept them alive in the bath tubs. They were faced with another problem. They realized that many people had radios and could hear news from all over Europe. In the Soviet Union they only had loudspeakers at every street corner and they played marches or propaganda from Moscow. At home, the population could enjoy a kind of news box (tochka-spot) which transmitted the same program as the loudspeakers. The length and breadth of that entire vast country everybody heard the same thing: propaganda. They were really cut off from the rest of the world and were indoctrinated to think that theirs was the best country in the world.
”
”
Pearl Fichman (Before Memories Fade)
“
His stream lasted so long I thought about throwing a quarter into the toilet bowl to make a wish.
”
”
Atom Yang (Red Envelope)
“
And yet the doctor had warned him: under no circumstances should he take his medicine on an empty stomach, not unless he had breakfast right after. And in fact, very often, when he took his pills on an empty stomach, the first thing he did was limp to the toilet so he could throw up, holding his hands out before him like a bad actor imitating a blind man, still between sleep and waking, eyes squinted shut, mouth gummy from sleep. The acid odor of the vomit would wake him. He hoped this didn’t interfere with the treatment, he hoped the pills had had time to dissolve in his stomach and spread through his tissues and bloodstream between the time he’d swallowed them and the moment when he found himself on his knees against the toilet, leaning over the bowl, hands firmly planted on the plastic seat—because he was afraid of drowning in the toilet bowl, drowning in the water and the rejected contents of his stomach, and his body would be racked with spasms, and there would be nothing left to throw up since he hadn’t eaten, and his body would contract, arch, and twist the way you wring out a damp rag to squeeze out the last drops of water. Even if he didn’t throw up, the nausea would persist from morning to night. Often he took a nap in the afternoon. He’d get up at noon, wander around the apartment, then go back to bed at two, get up at six, and nervously wait for dark so he could go back to bed again. He had to follow the course of treatment, his body didn’t tolerate it well, and since it began his nights had stretched from eight hours to fifteen or sixteen hours per day, and the whole time he kept thinking, After all you’ve been through.
”
”
Édouard Louis (Histoire de la violence)
“
Diamond pythons in the roof, bats nesting in my cupboard, satin bowerbirds at the fruit bowl, green tree frogs in the toilet, goanna chasing me on the verandah. That green on green on green. Ferns mark soggy bits of ground, a crossing in the creek, the cool place I like to sit. When it rains the house fills with huntsmans and mole crickets.
”
”
Tilly Lawless (Nothing but My Body)
“
Halpin introduced photographs of a jail cell Richard had stayed in, where he’d drawn pentagrams and “666” in his blood on the floor. Deputy sheriff Neulhad had been on suicide watch for Richard when he was first booked into the county jail’s hospital wing, on the day of his arrest. He stated he saw Richard sitting on the toilet bowl with some blood in his hand, and that he noted the 666 and the pentagram on the ground. “I watched him with his left hand take blood from his right palm and write the numbers and that five-pointed star directly on the floor in front of him.” He testified he then advised his supervisor of this, and photographs were taken of Richard’s artistic statements. There was no cross.
”
”
Philip Carlo (The Night Stalker: The Disturbing Life and Chilling Crimes of Richard Ramirez)
“
Today,” she said, “we’re going to learn about the history of the toilet bowl.
”
”
Dan Gutman (Dr. Nicholas Is Ridiculous! (My Weirder School #8))
“
Stranded, stranded, stranded on the toilet bowl/What do you do when you’re stranded and there ain’t nothing on the roll?/To prove you’re a man, you must wipe with your hand/Stranded, stranded, stranded on the toilet bowl.
”
”
Anthony Kiedis (Scar Tissue)
“
A mewling, confused gasp spurts from my lips as I gaze down into the toilet. I expect to see blood, perhaps chunks of flesh. Anything but what is there sitting at the bottom of the bowl clear as day. I plunge my hand into the toilet and pull it out, carefully, gingerly so as not to break it. In the palm of my hand was a single, perfect white egg.
”
”
Wendy Dalrymple (White Ibis)
“
I don't want to think about or start thinking about figuring out my life, for whatever it's worth. [...] And almost without realizing, I'm telling her to shut up. And she won't, so I'm telling her to seriously shut up, to shut her big fat stinking mouth, and she's a blur through my tears and I can't hear her voice through my own yelling—I don't know when I started yelling—as I'm up from the table—running—bathroom—just in time—tears and snot and then leaning over the toilet, vomiting [...] I spit the last bits into the water, crouched down, clinging to the tank and the rim of the bowl as though I could fall in and drown.
”
”
Barry Lyga (Bang)
“
rat can survive being flushed down the toilet and will eventually swim back and reemerge from the bowl like a wet phoenix. You can drop a rat from a height of fifty feet and it will still walk away. You can deprive it of sleep for twenty days. A rat can recognize the scent of an unfamiliar poison from rumor alone. A rat can change its shape entirely, collapsing its skeleton to fit into small holes. Rats have traveled in space. Rats dream. There is one rat per person in the world. You are never more than ten feet from a rat.
”
”
Erika Krouse (Tell Me Everything: The Story of a Private Investigation)
“
Cavuto threw his arms in the air. “Well, sweet Tidy Bowl Jesus skipping on the blue toilet water, we wouldn’t want it to get fucking weird, would we?
”
”
Christopher Moore (A Dirty Job (Grim Reaper, #1))
“
How will he get by in the desert without bowls and plates, without coal stoves, without carpets to lie down on with the little ones? Without his toilet, without the view from the window onto the square and the fountains with their crystal-clear water.
”
”
Olga Tokarczuk (Flights)
“
I still don't know to this day how she managed to climb the 94 stairs; she was dying from an overdose. The gate at the bottom of the stairwell did not make a sound when she entered the building, being so ill and alone. It was odd. Where could she have been?
Almost as if she had been dropped off at my doorstep like a package silently by a (Polish) giant.
She was pale and could barely open the door with her keys. When she entered, she fell into my arms; she was drunk and high, her legs buckling so that she couldn't stand. I tried to figure out what she had taken and what she had drunk, but she could barely talk; her eyes were rolling back in her skull. She was crying with her head in the toilet bowl, unable to stop the cramps running through her insides and her entire body shaking.
- What did you drink?
- Two … beers.
- I am not your father. What did you take? Where have you been?
- Beers and tequila - she mumbled, saliva drooling out of her mouth and her head hanging down like she was dead already. Then I asked her what else she had taken. She still wouldn't answer, so I repeated.
- Answer me Martina, who gave it to you?! - I shouted. - Where have you been?!
But she didn't answer, and her condition was critical, so I had to rush her to the hospital in my arms as she was about to lose consciousness.
I had to grab her and take her to the closest hospital across Parallel, two blocks away. This was the first time I had taken her to the hospital since she'd split her chin by falling off my bicycle allegedly before, although it wasn't the last. Interestingly, whenever she got involved with a new group of criminals, she wound up in the hospital both times, and both times I took her there. She had no energy to lift her head out of the toilet bowl.
As soon as I entered the hospital with her, the staff and I had to put her in a wheelchair. They took her inside and 20 minutes later when I was sitting by her bed, she already felt better with an IV dripping slowly into her vein, but she was unable to move; she was lying in her hospital bed, barely able to open her eyes to look at me. She was between life and death, or between real life and just a dream. I remembered less than a year earlier she was so full of life and happy and healthy when I put her up on that set of chairs that night when we took off the 'for sale' sign. The doctors told me after she fell asleep that they wanted to rinse her stomach, but she didn't authorize that. I was not fully aware that she was on drugs time to time or all the time and with what kind of people she was associated with. She almost only showed up at home in September 2014 when she overdosed. I was in love and worried for her so much, so I filled out the forms while they treated her in the hospital. I prayed to God to save her, asking for Him to show her the Truth. All I had was a prayer—50/50 if it worked. And I remembered that two years before, I had prayed for the life of our kitten Sabrina was playing with, making friends. This time, however, I had to rush to the hospital, not the vet, with my 20-year-old girlfriend who would soon be 21 in October 2014. And I felt like Sabrina, trying to make friends again but by the wrong people was the reason why I, an atheist, was praying for a puppy or a kitten or a bunny's life this time again.
I didn't know that lies and secrets were eating away at her from deep inside once in a while as well, it wasn't just the drugs that were killing her insides like cancer. Just like her brother's intestines silently began to consume him and her, unbeknownst to them, but I could almost sense it like a dog if I could not see it, smell it inside them like X-ray. They were unaware of what my eyes had seen, as I watched their vibrations and faces silently change.
”
”
Tomas Adam Nyapi (BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA)
“
By the beginning of March, I had sunk into the state of mind you get into when you know you have to take castor oil and there's no way out. I just did what had to be done, without discussing it or thinking about it. I would get up, polish my saddle shoes, bathe, get dressed, dump my bowl of oatmeal into the toilet so Grandma India would think I'd eaten it -- but my nervous stomach wouldn't have to eject it -- and go to the war inside that school. I listened to shouts, to ugly names, while I smiled and said, 'Thank you,' I waited for a ride, came home, did homework, got to bed, and started over again the next day. I felt kind of numb, as though nothing mattered any more.
”
”
Melba Pattillo Beals (Warriors Don't Cry: A Searing Memoir of the Battle to Integrate Little Rock's Central High)
“
46. Bubble Pop Discreetly place some bubble wrap around the rim of the toilet bowl and then gently lower the toilet seat onto it. The next time someone sits down to do their business, they'll be in for quite the popping surprise!
”
”
Jaryr Memes (The Prank Book: 75 Quick and Easy Pranks & Practical Jokes)
“
Dr Saurabh Patel-Best Piles Doctor in Ahmedabad
Piles are the swollen and enlarged viens that form inside and outside of the anus and rectum. This can make person uncomfortable and cause lot’s of pain and also cause rectum bleeding. They are common and affect people of all the age. Piles can be of different sizes.
If you have any problem related to the piles then you can consult the doctor Dr. Saurabh Patel who is the Best Piles Doctor in Ahmedabad.
Causes of Piles:
People who are at risk of getting piles:
1. Who are more overweight/obese.
2. Pregnant Women
3. People don’t eat fiber rich diet.
4. Have chronic constipation or diarrhea.
5. People lift objects which are very heavy.
6. Strain while having bowel movements.
Symptoms of Piles:
1) When you poo there is right red blood.
2) An itchy anus.
3) You still feel like going to the Poo after going to the toilet.
4) When you wipe the bottom portion then there is mucus in your underwear or toilet paper.
5) Pain and Lumps around your anus.
Prevention:
1) Eat fiber rich food and keep yourself hydrated to make it easier for the stool to pass.
2) Avoid Straining when you pass the stool.
3) You should avoid lifting the heavy objects as it can cause the risk of developing the piles.
4) You should maintain the proper weight.
5) You should exercise regularly which can help you to keep yourself active and helps you to reduce the risk of developing the piles.
Piles Diagnosis:
First the doctor will examine you and ask the symptoms if you have of Piles. They insert the fingers with gloves into the anus to feel the rectum and if there is any lumps present there.
The Physician may also recommend patient to get the blood test done if you are suffering from anaemia.
Piles Treatment:
At Home:
1) Eat fiber rich foods like fruit, vegetables, and grains.
2) Drink more water and don’t strain the bowl movement.
3) Apply ice packs which can help to ease the pain and the swelling.
Surgical Treatment:
If you have larger piles or if the treatment have not helped then then you have to go for the surgery.
Your doctor will:
1) Inject chemicals into the piles which will shrink it.
2) Use a laser to seal off the vessels that provide blood to the hemorrhoid.
3) Place a tiny rubber band around it to block its blood supply.
4) Use a staple to cut off its blood flow.
”
”
Dr Saurabh Patel
“
I’d rather bury my head in the jail toilet bowl than get within inches of your crotch.” “Nice visual, but like I said, I could do better. Your pussy is not worth my time.” “I have a great pussy,” she defends. “You’re not worth my pussy’s time.
”
”
Meghan Quinn (The Way I Hate Him (Almond Bay, #1))
“
What is round may not always be a toilet bowl.
”
”
-
“
And next time, be tidier about it. Over the toilet bowl works for your father – less mess." Fuck. My. Life.
”
”
Chloe Walsh (Keeping 13 (Boys of Tommen #2))
“
I shoved the cash into the back pocket of my pants, scooped up Pete's toothbrush and dunked it in the toilet bowl.
”
”
Caroline Peckham (The Awakening (Zodiac Academy, #1))
“
Toilet bowl basins need to be deeper, because every time I sit down my penis clogs the pipe.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (This Book Has No Title)