The Dirty Life Quotes

Just a tick past fruition sits decay. ~ Kristin Kimball

This isn't dirty, it's just the way I say it. ~ Frances Faye

Unlike plumbing, carpentry, auto repair, etc., we cannot outsource all the work over to someone else. If we wish to see our relationships fixed, at some point we are going to have to get our hands dirty. ~ Darrell Roberts

The old ladies were dressing up, she thought; the clouds draped around the mountains' shoulders like a dirty boa, with the snowcaps jutting above and the broad green bases below. ~ Linda Howard

I'd never been a talker in sex. Never saw the allure of dirty whispers. But now all I could think about was talking filthy and wrong. ~ Pepper Winters

Politics is a dirty business, a ruse, an ideological cul-de-sac, a vast looter of intellectual and financial resources, a lie that corrupts, a deceiver, a means of unleashing vast evil in the world of the most unexpected and undetected sort and the greatest diverter of human productivity ever concocted by those who do not believe in authentic social and economic progress. ~ Jeffrey Tucker

My grandmother's greatest gift was tolerance. Now, in the old days, Indians used to be forgiving of any kind of eccentricity. In fact, weird people were often celebrated. Epileptics were often shamans because people just assumed that God gave seizure-visions to the lucky ones. Gay people were seen as magical too. I mean, like in many cultures, men were viewed as warriors and women were viewed as caregivers. But gay people, being both male and female, were seen as both warriors and caregivers. Gay people could do anything. They were like Swiss Army knives! My grandmother had no use for all the gay bashing and homophobia in the world, especially among other Indians. "Jeez," she said, Who cares if a man wants to marry another man? All I want to know is who's going to pick up all the dirty socks?" (155) ~ Sherman Alexie

Dear lady, ... dear gentleman, reader, [it's] not right ... to put down this writer on his writing ... And I'll tell you why, too: it hurts, that's why.... People try to understand why writers commit suicide by jumping off boats or by alcoholism or by being heroic continuously or by rope or gun or drug or knife or water, and ... I can tell you straight out, ... it is reading slurring remarks about their writing that drives writers to the grave. Dirty remarks passed by ... dirty but damned nicely educated and very highly-paid ladies and gentlemen have the effect of killing writers. Yes, that's right. Dirty words ... in slick paper magazines read by smart people do assassinate writers. ... And boy let me tell you I am all for it, even when by some ... misunderstanding the dirty words are directed to me rather than to the party really deserving them. Accidents happen, dear clever reviewer or critic, and let it not be said that William Saroyan is one not to see a situation from the point of view of the other party, ... and I shall be the first to defend your right to be critical and even sarcastic, knowing full well that it is not about me and my writing, although my name is by mistake taken in vain by you. ... But go on, go on, do your good clever writing, every one of you, I am home, your are home, and we are each of us not yet on Variety's Necrology list, so if we can't take it, who can? ~ William Saroyan

I have had so many Dwellings, Nat, that I know these Streets as well as a strowling Beggar: I was born in this Nest of Death and Contagion and now, as they say, I have learned to feather it. When first I was with Sir Chris. I found lodgings in Phenix Street off Hogg Lane, close by St Giles and Tottenham Fields, and then in later times I was lodged at the corner of Queen Street and Thames Street, next to the Blew Posts in Cheapside. (It is still there, said Nat stirring up from his Seat, I have passed it!) In the time before the Fire, Nat, most of the buildings in London were made of timber and plaister, and stones were so cheap that a man might have a cart-load of them for six-pence or seven-pence; but now, like the Aegyptians, we are all for Stone. (And Nat broke in, I am for Stone!) The common sort of People gawp at the prodigious Rate of Building and exclaim to each other London is now another City or that House was not there Yesterday or the Situacion of the Streets is quite Changd (I contemn them when they say such things! Nat adds). But this Capital City of the World of Affliction is still the Capitol of Darknesse, or the Dungeon of Man's Desires: still in the Centre are no proper Streets nor Houses but a Wilderness of dirty rotten Sheds, allways tumbling or takeing Fire, with winding crooked passages, lakes of Mire and rills of stinking Mud, as befits the smokey grove of Moloch. (I have heard of that Gentleman, says Nat all a quiver). It is true that in what we call th ~ Peter Ackroyd

He dragged his mouth along her jaw. She smelled so good, so feminine. He moved his mouth to her neck, and instantly, she went taut and recoiled. Right. He was a vampire. Worth about as much as a stray dog. And this stray dog was humping her leg. She must be mortified. Fucking humiliating. He shoved himself off her, averting his gaze so she wouldn't see the color change in his eyes that signified arousal. She was too aware of his desire as it was, and he was an idiot for letting it go as far as it had. With a curse, he grabbed up his ruined shirt. It was bloody, dirty, and torn to shit. It wasn't wearable, but he put it to good use while he waited for his heart rate and breathing to return to pre-hump-the-enemy levels. ~ Larissa Ione

After shows my face feels dirty with makeup and sweat, especially in the smaller venues, so it feels good to get back to the bus and smooth it away. Sometimes you need something alcohol-based, especially on tour when you don't always get a chance to keep washing your face all the time. ~ Ellie Goulding

The patriarchal authoritarian sexual order that resulted from the revolutionary processes of latter-day matriarchy (economic independence of the chief's family from the maternal gens, a growing exchange of goods between the tribes, development of the means of production, etc.) becomes the primary basis of authoritarian ideology by depriving the women, children, and adolescents of their sexual freedom, making a commodity of sex and placing sexual interests in the service of economic subjugation. From now on, sexuality is indeed distorted; it becomes diabolical and demonic and has to be curbed. In terms of patriarchal demands, the innocent sensuousness of matriarchy appears as the lascivious unchaining of dark powers. The Dionysian becomes "sinful yearning," which patriarchal culture can conceive of only as something chaotic and "dirty." Surrounded by and imbued with human sexual structures that have become distorted and lascivious, patriarchal man is shackled for the first time in an ideology in which sexual and dirty, sexual and vulgar or demonic, became inseparable associations. ~ Wilhelm Reich

Sadie and I locked eyes. We had a brief, silent exchange, something like:
You ask her.
No, you.
Of course Sadie's better at giving dirty looks, so I lost the contest. ~ Rick Riordan

This wasn't the way I had imagined my adventures, but reality ignored my wishes from the get-go, giving me a body best suited for stacking books in the library, injecting so much fear into my veins that I could only cower in the stairwell when the violence came. Maybe someday my arms and legs would thicken with muscle and the fear would drain away like dirty bathwater. I wish I believed these things would happen, but I didn't. ~ David Benioff

I remember the whole thing with the word ambition. I was messed up for a while because I associated it with certain people who just want to be famous. I think, for a while, it was kind of a dirty word for women. ~ Winona Ryder

Raffe throws me a dirty look. He bends over and swipes his arm behind my knees, lifting me up in his embrace.
'I can go with one of the locusts.' I stiffen in his arms and try to lean as far away from him as I can.
'The hell you will.' He runs a couple of steps before spreading his wings. ~ Susan Ee

My hair's actually really thin, but I just throw some hairspray into it and make sure it's been a couple days dirty, and then it goes the direction that you want it, literally! ~ Lights

But the blind did not go around very much. They sat, and didn't seem to have any conversation, and soon you were aware of leisure gone bad. I had learned something of this during Einhorn's days of dirty mental weather. Or of the soul, not the mind, the sick evil of not even knowing why anything should ail you since you're resigned to accept all conditions. ~ Saul Bellow

You want enough to fill you up. You want more cocaine and more vodka. You want more of all of them, of men, of the things that stick out of them, egos and Marlboro reds and dirty words about banging your perfect ass. ~ Amanda Boyden

A Far Cry From Africa

A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt
Of Africa. Kikuyu, quick as flies,
Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.
Corpses are scattered through a paradise.
Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries:
"Waste no compassion on these separate dead!"
Statistics justify and scholars seize
The salients of colonial policy.
What is that to the white child hacked in bed?
To savages, expendable as Jews?

Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break
In a white dust of ibises whose cries
Have wheeled since civilization's dawn
From the parched river or beast-teeming plain.
The violence of beast on beast is read
As natural law, but upright man
Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain.
Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars
Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum,
While he calls courage still that native dread
Of the white peace contracted by the dead.

Again brutish necessity wipes its hands
Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again
A waste of our compassion, as with Spain,
The gorilla wrestles with the superman.
I who am poisoned with the blood of both,
Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?
I who have cursed
The drunken officer of British rule, how choose
Between this Africa and the English tongue I love?
Betray them both, or give back what they give?
How can I face such slaughter and be cool ~ Derek Walcott

Six hundred years is an awfully long time, Ever. So long it's impossible for either of us to imagine. Though it is more than enough time to rack up a few dirty skeletons for the old metaphorical closet, right? ~ Alyson Noel

I can hear them on the floor below. They will find me in miuntes, or seconds. I scrawl the words on a dirty shred of newsprint. They are nearly illegible, but if he finds them, he will understand:
'Not fast enough. Love you love Jamie. Don't go home'
Not only do I break their hearts, I steal their refuge, too. I picture our little canyon abandoned, as it must be forever now. Or if not abandoned, a tomb. ~ Stephenie Meyer

It would be an idyllic tropical paradise if not for the malaria, the insects, the constant diarrhea and resulting hemorrhoids, and the fact that the people are dirty and smell bad and eat each other and use human heads for decoration. ~ Neal Stephenson

This was the neighborhood of the cheap addicts, whisky-heads, stumblebums, the flotsam of Harlem; the end of the line for the whores, the hard squeeze for the poor honest laborers and a breeding ground for crime. Blank-eyed whores stood on the street corners swapping obscenities with twitching junkies. Muggers and thieves slouched in dark doorways waiting for someone to rob; but there wasn't anyone but each other. Children ran down the street, the dirty street littered with rotting vegetables, uncollected garbage, battered garbage cans, broken glass, dog offal - always running, ducking and dodging. God help them if they got caught. Listless mothers stood in the dark entrances of tenements and swapped talk about their men, their jobs, their poverty, their hunger, their debts, their Gods, their religions, their preachers, their children, their aches and pains, their bad luck with the numbers and the evilness of white people. Workingmen staggered down the sidewalks filled with aimless resentment, muttering curses, hating to go to their hotbox hovels but having nowhere else to go. ~ Chester Himes

If we go that way, it seems less like we'll be shot for trespassing. We can't be low profile because of your shirt."
"Aquamarine is a wonderful color, and I won't be made to feel bad for wearing it," Gansey said. But his voice was a bit thin, and he glanced back at the church again. Just then he looked younger than she'd ever seen him, his eyes narrowed, hair messed up, features unstudied. Young and, strangely enough, afraid.
Blue thought: I can't tell him. I can never tell him. I have to just try to stop it from happening.
Then Gansey, suddenly charming again, flipped a hand in the direct of her purple tunic dress. "Lead the way, Eggplant."
She found a stick to poke at the ground for snakes before they set off through the grass. The wind smelled like rain, and the ground rumbled with thunder, but the weather held. The machine in Gansey's hands blinked red constantly, only flickering to orange when they stepped too far away from the invisible line.
"Thanks for coming, Jane," Gansey said.
Blue shot him a dirty look. "You're welcome, Dick."
He looked pained. "Please don't. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Do not tease me, Dani. It's not a game you want to play if you don't intend to follow through."
"I-I wasn't . . . I wouldn't," I stammer.
"You did, and I have no doubt you'll have the brilliant idea to do it again. The next time you allude to those dirty thoughts I know you have about me, don't think for a second that I won't drag you to the closest bed to show you just how fucking dirty they'll get. ~ Harper Sloan

How the hell had an asshole like me been lucky enough to find a woman who was so pure and yet so dirty at the same time? - Scott ~ Nina Levine

There have to be men in the world with good hearts and dirty minds. There just have to be. ~ Sarina Bowen

I like big men," she said.
Her voice was raspy, like she had a cold. She came up to me and grabbed my arm. Her fingers hurt the muscles. I could smell her perfume. She came close to me. I thought I knew what she wanted. I tried to kiss her. She jerked away.
"No."
"I'm sorry."
She slapped me. She was strong, my cheek stung. She moved in, swinging both arms. Now she had her fists closed. She hit my arms and my chest. I tried to hold her.
"Hit me!" she said.
It was goddam queer. I held her arms, but she got loose.
She struck my chest.
She said: "Hit me."
I hit her easy on the ribs.
"That's right! That's right!" She hit me a couple of hard blows. Her eyes were wild. She hit me a hard punch on the neck. I hit her in the belly. I heard the breath go out: ouf! It didn't stop her. She kept coming in, punching hard.
I gave her one over the kidneys. She grunted and clinched with me. She bit my arm until the blood came. I slapped her. She put her knee in my groin. It hurt. I lost my balance, grabbed for her, and we both went down. We rolled around on the dirty floor of the shack, both panting. She was hard to hold, and every time she got loose she'd hit or kick or bite me. I got over her, holding her down on the floor. She looked beautiful and wild. She bit my arm again and I slugged her in the ribs. She moaned, and then struggled free. My hand caught in the scarlet shirt. The silk tore to her navel.
"Yes," she said.
I got ~ Jonathan Latimer

Everything. If you were mine, I'd do everything." Our gold bubble locks shut, and a little universe fills it. The possibilities are infinite.
"I have a big imagination. Could you be more specific?" I put my hand on the side of his neck and stroke down to the hard bar of his collarbone. His skin is hot satin. His pulse nudges me.
Mine, mine, mine. One thousand percent mine until the end of time. He looks like he agrees.
"Everything you wanted or needed, I'd do it." Amazing how he can keep it clean, but it feels so dirty. That's the thing about good boys.
"I want and need a lot."
A big white smile now. "No kidding. Well, I'm a hard worker. ~ Sally Thorne

Satan is the sower of compromise - leaving a bit of God's truth into the dirty rags of sin. Satan is the commander in deceit, Satan is the ringleader in rebellion against the faithful.
Satan is the sly serpent of temptation.
Satan is the false hope of security.
Satan is the great pretender.
Satan is the great spoiler of everything good.
And Satan wants to destroy you. ~ Billy Graham

I have been, and will go on, fighting that damnable, dirty, rotten business with all the power at my command. ~ Billy Sunday

He loves the rough men in the romance novels. The mysterious guys with all the swagger." Trevor's cheeks flushed. "Men like that don't exist," Denver said matter-of-factly. "Women write those books because they don't want to deal with the reality that their hero has dirty laundry, belches, and doesn't worship the ground they walk on. ~ Dannika Dark

I pulled a dirty black sweatshirt from the laundry basket on my son's floor and tried to drink in his scent, to savor the essence of my sweet boy. I inhaled it long and hard, wanting to permanently implant all of him in my brain, to make him last forever. ~ Shelley Ramsey