Kweskin Jug Quotes

There isn't a word for walking out of the grocery store
with a gallon jug of milk in a plastic sack
that should have been bagged in double layers

- so that before you are even out the door
you feel the weight of the jug dragging
the bag down, stretching the thin

plastic handles longer and longer
and you know it's only a matter of time until
bottom suddenly splits.

There is no single, unimpeachable word
for that vague sensation of something
moving away from you

as it exceeds its elastic capacity
- which is too bad, because that is the word
I would like to use to describe standing on the street

chatting with an old friend
as the awareness grows in me that he is
no longer a friend, but only an acquaintance,

a person with whom I never made the effort -
until this moment, when as we say goodbye
I think we share a feeling of relief,

a recognition that we have reached
the end of a pretense,
though to tell the truth

what I already am thinking about
is my gratitude for language -
how it will stretch just so much and no farther;

how there are some holes it will not cover up;
how it will move, if not inside, then
around the circumference of almost anything -

how, over the years, it has given me
back all the hours and days, all the
plodding love and faith, all the ~ Tony Hoagland

That's a compliment," said Gertrude. "I put all the compliments I receive into a little money-jug that has a slit in the side. I shake them up and down, and they rattle. There are not many yet - only two or three." (Chapter 6) ~ Henry James

Just above Tommy's face were the Maiden and the Troll, two of his oldest wall people. The troll lived in a cave deep in the woods. He was big (Tommy knew the troll was even bigger than his daddy, and if the troll told his daddy to sit down and shut up, he would in a second), and he looked scary, with his little eyes and crooked teeth like fangs, but he had a secret. The secret was that he wasn't scary at all. He liked to read, and play chess by mail with a gnome from over by the closet wall, and he never killed anything. The troll was a good troll, but everyone judged him by his looks. And that, Tommy knew, was a mean thing to do, though everyone did it.
The maiden was very beautiful. Even more beautiful than Tommy's mommy. She had long blonde hair that fell in heavy curls to her waist, and big blue eyes, and she always smiled even though her family was poor. She came into the woods near the troll's cave to get water from a spring, for her family. The spring bubbled out of Tommy's wall right next to where his hand lay when he was asleep. Sometimes she only came and filled her jug and left. But other times she would sit awhile, and sing songs of love lost, and sailing ships, and the kings and queens of Elfland. And the troll, so hideous and so kind, would listen to her soft voice from the shadows just inside the entrance of his cave, which sat just below the shelf where Tommy kept his favorite toys and books.
Tommy felt bad for the troll. He loved the maiden who came ~ Michael Kanuckel

He had a thwarting day. The heath and moor were crisscrossed with little tracks, dusty and twisting between the heather and bracken and the little juniper trees with their clinging roots. There was not one way but many, all athwart each other like the cracks on a crazy jug, and he followed first one and then the other, choosing the straightest and stoniest and finding himself always under the hot-sun at another crossing just like the one he had just left. After a time he decided to got with the sun behind him always
at least this led to consistency of proceeding
though it must be told that when he decided this he had only the haziest idea, dear readers, of where the sun had been at the beginning of the venture. So it often is in this life. We become consistent and orderly too late, on insufficient grounds, and perhaps in the wrong direction.
Possession ~ A.S. Byatt

Water, thou hast no taste, no color, no odor; canst not be defined, art relished while ever mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself, thou fillest us with a gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses. By thy might, there return into us treasures that we had abandoned. By thy grace, there are released in us all the dried-up runnels of our heart. Of the riches that exist in the world, thou art the rarest and also the most delicate - thou so pure within the bowels of the earth! A man may die of thirst lying beside a magnesian spring. He may die within reach of a salt lake. He may die though he hold in his hand a jug of dew, if it be inhabited by evil salts. For thou, water, art a proud divinity, allowing no alteration, no foreignness in thy being. And the joy that thou spreadest is an infinitely simple joy. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. Two old chairs and half a candle, One old jug without a handle- These were all the worldly goods. ~ Edward Lear

If the solar system was brought about by an accidental collision, then the appearance of organic life on this planet was also an accident, and the whole evolution of Man was an accident too. If so, then all our present thoughts are mere accidents
the
accidental by-product of the movement of atoms. And this holds for the thoughts of the materialists and astronomers as well as for anyone else's. But if their thoughts
i.e. of materialism and astronomy
are merely accidental by-products, why should we believe them to be true? I see no reason for believing that one accident should be able to give me a correct account of all the other accidents. It's like expecting that the accidental shape taken by the splash when you upset a milkjug should give you a correct account of how the jug was made and why it was upset. ~ C.S. Lewis

If one unlabeled bottle holds nonfat milk, what does the second unlabeled bottle contain? If you answered "Whole milk" then you're obviously not ready to receive a jug of my love. So I'll just pour it in someone else's coffee. ~ Jarod Kintz

The sun of Sunday morning up out of the sleepless sea from black Liverpool. Sitting on the rocks over the water with a jug of coffee. Down there along the harbor pier, trippers in bright colors. Sails moving out to sea. Young couples climbing the Balscaddoon Road to the top of Kilrock to search out grass and lie between the furze. A cold green sea breaking whitely along the granite coast. A day on which all things are born, like uncovered stars. ~ J.P. Donleavy

He had a curiously stunted sense of humor and loved practical jokes that veered dangerously close to cruelty. Once on a hot day he filled a friend's water jug with kerosene and mirthfully stood by as the friend took a mighty swig. The friend ended up in the hospital. ~ Bill Bryson

Dreams are good for three things:
ALIF:
You want something but you just can't ask for it. So you'll say that you've dreamed about it. In this manner, you can ask for what you want without actually asking for it.
BA:
You want to harm someone. For example, you want to slander a woman. So, you'll say that such-and-such woman is committing adultery or that such-and-such pasha is pilfering wine by the jug. I dreamed it, you'll say. In this fashion, even if they don't believe you, the mere mention of the sinful deed is almost never forgotten.
DJIM:
You want something, but you don't even know what it is. So, you'll describe a confusing dream. Your friends or family will immediately interpret the dream and tell you what you need or what they can do for you. For example, they'll say: You need a husband, a child, a house ... ~ Orhan Pamuk

One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin. ~ Virginia Woolf

Man, in spite of his tendency towards mendacity, has a great respect for what he calls the truth. Truth is his staff in his voyage through life; commonplaces are the bread in his bag and the wine in his jug. ~ Remy De Gourmont

Spiritually the jugs may be graduated thus: Just below the shoulder of the first bottle, serious and concentrated conversation. Two inches farther down, sweetly sad memory. Three inches more, thoughts of old and satisfactory loves. An inch, thoughts of old and bitter loves. Bottom of the first jug, general and undirected sadness. Shoulder of the second jug, black, unholy despondency. Two fingers down, a song of death or longing. A thumb, every other song each one knows. The graduation stops here, for the trail splits and there is no certainty. From this point on, anything can happen. ~ John Steinbeck

I feel like a jug in which wine is poured until it overflows. ~ Henri Cole

You have to taste the sour urine before you break the jug. ~ Clive Barker

I wasn't in a lot of rock and roll bands. I was in jug bands and things when I was in school. ~ Loudon Wainwright III

Cleaning and painting finished, the next target was the big ware press in the parlour. Out came delicate china which had been in the family for years. My mother's respect for the Stations weighed against her fear of breakage, but the Stations won every time. Once when a precious jug was broken she mourned it for days, telling us all how long it had been in the family. Finally, Dan, our part-time travelling farm worker, said, "Missus, if it was here that long it was time to break it." And that was the end of that. ~ Alice Taylor

We never will have any prosperity that is free from speculation till we pass a law that every time a broker or person sells something, he has got to have it sitting there in a bucket, or a bag, or a jug, or a cage, or a rat trap, or something, depending on what it is he is selling. We are continually buying something that we never get from a man that never had it. ~ Will Rogers

Amphora," he murmured against the wide, sweet curve of her lips. His hands slid over the wide, sweet curve of her hips, cupping smoothness cool and solid, timeless and graceful as the swell of ancient pottery, promising abundance. "Like a Grecian vase. God, you've got the most beautiful arse!"

"Jug-butt, huh? ~ Diana Gabaldon

So they sit like overfed fowl and watch Galdran Merindar break the Covenant by making secret pacts to sell our woods overseas?" I retorted.
He paused in the act of reaching for the camp jug. "Break the Covenant? How do you know about that? I don't recall you've ever been to Court."
Tell him about Azmus, and the intercepted letter, and have him send minions to make certain both disappeared? No chance. "I just know. That's all you need to know. But even if it weren't true, Debegri would still go up to take the County of Tlanth by force. Can't any of you Court people see that if it happens to us, it can happen to you? Or are you too stupid?"
"Possibly," he said, still with that dispassionate amusement. "It's also possible your…somewhat misguided actions are inspired by misguided sources, shall we say?"
"Say what you want," I retorted. "It's not like I can duff off in a huff if you're impolite."
He laughed softly, then shook his head. "I ought not to bait you. I apologize."
The implication seemed pretty clear: Soon enough I'd have a hard time of it. The prospect silenced me.
He didn't seem to notice as he brought out the jug and then poured two mugs of steaming water. A moment later he opened a little bag and brought out dried leaves, which he cast into one mug. Another bag provided leaves for the other mug. The wonderful scent of tea wafted through the air. I did not recognize the blend--or blends. Instinct made me sigh; then I realized I'd d ~ Sherwood Smith

My shamans have read the sands. They have learned much of your future. (...)'

Gamet was scowling. 'I do not wish to offend, Warchief, but I hold little faith in divination. No mortal - no god - can say we are doomed, or destined. The future remains unknown, the one thing we cannot force a pattern upon.'

(...)

'Do you not see patterns in history, Fist? Are you blind to the cycles we all suffer through? Look upon this desert, this wasteland you cross. Yours is not the first empire that would claim it. And what of the tribes? Before the Khundryl, before the Kherahn Dhobri and the Tregyn, there were the Sanid, and the Oruth, and before them there were others whose names have vanished. Look upon the ruined cities, the old roads. The past is all patterns, and those patterns remain beneath our feet, even as the stars above reveal their own patterns - for the stars we gaze upon each night are naught but an illusion from the past.' He raised the jug again and studied it for a moment. 'Thus, the past lies beneath and above the present, Fist. This is the truth my shamans embrace, the bones upon which the future clings like muscle. ~ Steven Erikson

It was no easy task to tame the barbarians' language. One quick three-week-old autumn, the brothers were sitting in their cell, trying to write out the letters that men would later call Cyrillic. They were not getting anywhere. Fromm the cell you could clearly see half of October, and in it the silence was one hour's walk long and two hours' walk wide. Then Methodius called his brother's attention to four jugs standing on the window of their cell, but outside, on the other side of the bars. "If the doors were locked, how could I get to one of those jugs?" he asked. Constantine broke one of the jugs, then drew the fragments piece by piece through the bars and into the cell, where he reassembled the jug, bonding it with saliva and clay from the floor beneath his feet. This they now did with the Slavonic language: they broke it in pieces, drew it into their mouths through the bars of Cyril's letters, and bonded the fragments with their saliva and the Greek clay beneath the soles of their feet. ~ Milorad Pavic

Theirs [the Beatles] is a happy, cocky, belligerently resourceless brand of harmonic primitivism ... In the Liverpudlian repertoire, the indulged amateurishness of the musical material, though closely rivaled by the indifference of the performing style, is actually surpassed only by the ineptitude of the studio production method. (Strawberry Fields suggests a chance encounter at a mountain wedding between Claudio Monteverdi and a jug band.) ~ Glenn Gould

But the most sumptuous thing in the room at that moment was naturally the sumptuously laid table, though, of course, even that was comparatively speaking: the table-cloth was clean, the silver was brightly polished; three kinds of wonderfully baked bread, two bottles of wine, two bottles of excellent monastery mead, and a large glass jug of monastery kvas, famous throughout the neighbourhood. There was no vodka at all. Rakitin related afterwards that this time it was a five-course dinner: fish soup of sterlets served with fish patties; then boiled fish excellently prepared in a special way; then salmon cutlets, ice cream and stewed fruits and, finally, a fruit jelly. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Where, then, is our orator running off to, who was going to speak about a palm, but talks of nothing but a gourd? It started as a wine jar, why does it end as a water jug? ~ Martin Luther

A real drunk is only int'rested in two things: puttin paid to the jug in the hand, and huntin for the one still in the bush. ~ Stephen King

Supposing there was no intelligence behind the universe, no creative mind. In that case, nobody designed my brain for the purpose of thinking. It is merely that when the atoms inside my skull happen, for physical or chemical reasons, to arrange themselves in a certain way, this gives me, as a by-product, the sensation I call thought. But, if so, how can I trust my own thinking to be true? It's like upsetting a milk jug and hoping that the way it splashes itself will give you a map of London. But if I can't trust my own thinking, of course I can't trust the arguments leading to Atheism, and therefore have no reason to be an Atheist, or anything else. Unless I believe in God, I cannot believe in thought: so I can never use thought to disbelieve in God. ~ C.S. Lewis

And you? Did you find the doorknob?"
Hadrian picked up a jug and downed several swallows, drinking so quickly some of the water dripped down his chin. He poured some in his palm and rinsed his face, running his fingers through his hair.
"I didn't even get close enough to see a door."
"Well, look on the bright side" - Hadrian smiled - "at least you weren't captured and condemned to death this time."
"That's the bright side?"
"What can I say? I'm a glass-half-full kinda guy. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Francis Marion Tarwater's uncle had been dead for only half a day when the boy got too drunk to finish digging his grave and a Negro named Buford Munson, who had come to get a jug filled, had to finish it and drag the body from the breakfast table where it was still sitting and bury it in a decent and Christian way, with the sign of its Savior at the head of the grave and enough dirt on top to keep the dogs from digging it up. Buford had come along about noon and when he left at sundown, the boy, Tarwater, had never returned from the still. ~ Flannery O'Connor

This is another one that perplexes me.
"Would you like your milk in a bag?"
"No, I think it's fine inside that plastic jug, but thanks for asking first!! ~ Neil Leckman

I do not drink from this jug every day. But sometimes at night when the wind blows and I am alone and feeling very solitary, it is my only friend and comfort. Right, Pancho? ~ Rick Skwiot

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou. ~ Omar Khayyam

Himmler wants to send an expedition to Tibet to look for ancient manuscripts on the Aryans. The man is like a little schoolgirl. What culture is there in an old jug, I ask you? ~ Adolf Hitler

The air is hot and rich with the scent of chocolate. Quite unlike the white powdery chocolate I knew as a boy, this has a throaty richness like the perfumed beans from the coffee stall on the market, a redolence of amaretto and tiramisù, a smoky, burned flavor that enters my mouth somehow and makes it water. There is a silver jug of the stuff on the counter, from which a vapor rises. I recall that I have not breakfasted this morning. ~ Joanne Harris

After using your stuff on a jug band full of instruments, all I can say is Thank You Dr. Duck ! ... ~ John Sebastian

I never saw so intelligent a man have so much trouble in getting out a connected sentence. Ever since I have known him, he has desired to have a long talk with me, but he never gets started; and yet each time he meets me with renewed zest for the outpouring. It is like getting congealed liquid from a demijohn; you know the jug is large and full, but getting the contents out is the problem. ~ Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Whether you listen to a piece of music, or a poem, or look at a picture or a jug, or a piece of sculpture, what matters about it is not what it has in common with others of its kind, but what is singularly its own. ~ Basil Bunting

He hadn't "abused" alcohol, but had spent almost four years sitting in a chair drinking jug wine around the clock and looking, variously, at the wall, the window blind, and the TV screen. ~ Gilbert Sorrentino

Tessa had lain down beside him and slid her arm beneath his head, and put her head on his chest,listening to the ever-weakening beat of his heart. And in the shadows they'd whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. Of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant. Of a ballroom and a balcony and the moon sailing like a ship untethered through the sky. Of the flutter of the wings of the clockwork Angel. Of holy water and blood. ~ Cassandra Clare

The Jug Band was exactly what I wanted to do, and it wasn't my idea. ~ John Sebastian

Harriet groaned as Adam turned around and revealed what he had just bought at the bar. "I said one more drink, not one more pitcher," she called across to him. "We're expected home already!"

"Listen to yourself, woman!" Adam said incredulously, reaching the table and putting the jug of Snakebite down. "They're not our parents!"

"Yeah, but – its board game night, 'The Game of Life'…" Harriet said, stupid with her share of the two jugs of Snakebite they'd imbibed already.

"Fuck 'The Game of Life'," Adam replied, with great delight, refilling their pint glasses with a clumsy slosh from the pitcher. "I always get the shit jobs anyway. ~ Erin Lawless

A lady that I know just came from Colombia. She laughed because I did not understand. She held out some marijuana uh-huh, said it was the finest in the land. I said, no-no-no-no, i dont smoke it no more. It only makes me fall on the floor.No thank you please, it only makes me sneeze, and then it makes it hard to find the door. A lady that i know just came from Morrocco, Spain. She laughed because i did not understand. She held out a ten-pound bag of cocaine, said it was the finest in the land. I said no-no-no-no, i don't *sniff* no more, it only makes me fall on the floor. No thank you please, it only makes me sneeze, and then it makes it hard to find the door.
A lady that i know just came from Tennesee. She laughed because i did not understand. She held out a jug of moonshine, uh-huh, said it was the finest in the land. I said no-no-no-no, i don't drink it no more, it only makes me fall on the floor. No thank you please, it only makes me sneeze, and then it makes it hard to find the door.

Ringo Starr's No-No Song ~ Ringo Starr

He spoke about cognition."
"Is that all you know? Don't you remember anything?"
"I remember the verses he interpreted."
"Whose verses?"
"I don't know."
"Let me hear."
"Ahriman knows not
The secret of God's unity.
Ask Asaf, he knows.
Can a sparrow swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird?
'Can a single jug take in
The waters of a great sea?'"
"Those are the verses of Ibn Arabi.They say that the perception of God's wisdom is possible only for the chosen, only for a few."
"And what remains for us?"
"To comprehend what we can. If a sparrow cannot swallow the mouthful of the Anka-bird, it will still eat as much as it can. You cannot scoop up the whole sea with a jug, but whatever you scoop up is also the sea. ~ Mesa Selimovic

We had to scramble for seats in the day coach, lugging one straw valise between us and a gallon jug of lemonade. And a thermos bottle of the kind the Spanish-American War soldiers carried, with our own well water for brushing our teeth. We'd heard that St. Louis water comes straight out of the Mississippi River, and there's enough silt in it to settle at the bottom of the glass. We'd go to their fair, but we weren't going to drink their water. ~ Richard Peck

There is a balance, a kind of standoff between the time continuum and the human entity, our frail bundle of soma and psyche. We eventually succumb to time, it's true, but time depends on us. We carry it in our muscles and genes, pass it on to the next set of time-factoring creatures, our brown-eyed daughters and jug-eared sons, or how would the world keep going. Never mind the time theorists, the cesium devices that measure the life and death of the smallest silvery trillionth of a second ... We were the only crucial clocks, our minds and bodies, way stations for the distribution of time. ~ Don DeLillo

Those who have no mental vigilance,
Though they may hear the teachings, ponder them or meditate,
With minds like water seeping from a leaking jug,
Their learning will not settle in their memories. ~ Shantideva

Haven't even fucked her yet and she's shuddering under my touch.

It's in this moment that I know I'm done waiting.

Done waiting for her to fully come to me.

I'm over being patient.

Gabriella is going to be mine in every way I can have her.

"You can walk away from this right now. Today. I will allow it. You're tired and I prefer you get some decent rest if you won't get it here."

"Allow?"

My hand circles around the front of her throat, unable to not touch her in any way that I can. I feel like a beggar needing water who's just been handed a jug. All I want to do is roam over her skin and memorize how every silky inch feels. I know my touch is possessive and out of fucking order, seeing as only hours ago she was still treating me as her boss only. But she made that switch when she turned up, didn't she? She can't take that back now.

"Yes, allow. I gave you time to come to me. Here you are, Gabriella. Now you can put us in my hands."

She blinks and I feel the pulse in her delicate throat start to jump. What she doesn't do is move out from under my hands. I feel as though she's gifted me a prize. So close to her, her scent is arresting, she smells fucking good, lickable.

She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and I want to bite it hard.

"What… what does that even mean?"

"It means you can no longer deny what we are, cara. It's time for me to make t ~ V. Theia