Wanking Quotes

Let me enjoy my fan-wanking.
Your what?
Let me arrange the story to meet my own personal needs. ~ Amanda Stevens

Embarrassment wasn't what I had in mind. Put it this way: I'm not really interested in any of them wanking off to the sounds of us fucking in the next room. ~ Georgia Cates

...I'm sometimes called a reactionary. People say I want to go back to the 50s. And they're right – but it's the 650s BC I want to return to, because Sparta had the right idea about male love. You can spend all day wrestling and wanking each other off if you want to, chaps, but you still have to get married, have kids and go off to fight wars. ~ Milo Yiannopoulos

Frankly, I don't think I could hang out with you if you weren't the vice type of guy."
"Well then, you'll be pleased to know that I'm still drinking and I'm still wanking to porn."
"That's my boy, ~ Karina Halle

I don't have bionic arms, and I have absolutely no stamina. Once I rubbed out the penciled-in marginalia of a hundred pages of a book that I wanted to photocopy (long story) and afterwards it felt like I'd been wanking off a giant for a hundred years. ~ Scarlett Thomas

A man grows weary of having no lovers but his fingers. ~ George R R Martin

Your name is Link?" "What was that?" the man yells. He lifts a hand and gently presses a finger to my lips to shush me, making me frown. "What the fuck?" the voice goes on. "Are you wanking off in there during a kids' birthday party? ~ Brynne Asher

Yeah, on the records, the guitars are made melodic, and I try to make it memorable. There's not much just wanking, to be honest - it's mostly melodic parts. I try not to play too many notes. It's just more instrumental music. It's a totally valid criticism if you don't like that kind of thing. It also is maybe a little anachronistic or unnecessary in a certain way. ~ Stephen Malkmus

I settled into a contented routine of working, spending my free time with Veronica and, back in my student room, wanking explosively to fantasies of her splayed beneath me or arched above me. Daily intimacy made me proud of knowing about make-up, clothes policy, the feminine razor, and the mystery and consequences of a woman's periods. I found myself envying this regular reminder of something so wholly female and defining, so connected to the great cycle of nature. ~ Julian Barnes

A cry-wanking scene is the struggle to live, in a single moment. ~ James McAvoy

Well, we all have our specialties, Harold." For example, you are a wanking accountant. ~ Dylan Schaffer

- Brother Jimmy, said Joey the Lips. - I'm worried. - About Dean.

- Wha' abou' Dean?

- He told me he's been listening to jazz.

- What's wrong with tha'? Jimmy wanted to know.

- Everything, said Joey the Lips. - Jazz is the antithesis of soul.

- I beg your fuckin' pardon!

- I'll go along with Joey there, said Mickah.

- See, said Joey the Lips. - Soul is the people's music. Ordinary people making music for ordinary people. - Simple music. Any Brother can play it. The Motown sound, it's simple. Thump-thump-thump-thump. - That's straight time. Thump-thump-thump-thump. - See? Soul is democratic, Jimmy. Anyone with a bin lid can play it. - It's the people's music.

- Yeh don't need anny honours in your Inter to play soul, isn't tha' wha' you're gettin' at, Joey?

- That's right, brother Michael.

- Mickah.

- Brother Mickah. That's right. You don't need a doctorate to be a doctor of soul.

- Nice one.

- An' what's wrong with jazz? Jimmy asked.

- Intellectual music, said Joey the Lips. - It's anti-people music. It's abstract.

- It's cold an' emotionless, amn't I righ'? said Mickah.

- You are. - It's got no soul. It is sound for the sake of sound. It has no meaning. - It's musical wanking, Brother.

- Musical wankin', said Mickah. - That's good.

- Here, yeh could play tha' at t ~ Roddy Doyle

Time
He flexes like a whore
Falls wanking to the floor
His trick is you and me, boy ~ David Bowie

There is no love in Puritanism. It turns out that these monsters that won't allow any deviation from that rigid orthodoxy are obsessed with frigging, fucking, wanking, twatty sex. Don't do it, they screamed, while that's exactly what they did. My mother's cunt was all bent out of shape to prove it ... All those Puritan preachers were vindictive, vengeful men spouting hateful thoughts and threats, and it's disheartening that they're still taught in the schools with reverence. They were shits. And they spouted shit. And a goodly portion of the world is still spouting shit. ~ Larry Kramer

Sevro snorts. "What do you think I've been doing this whole time, you silky turd? Wanking off in the bushes?"
Cassius and I look at each other.
"Kind of," I say.
"Yeah, actually," Cassius agrees. ~ Pierce Brown

The question was, "Is your sexuality constructed by environment and experience, or is it innate?" I examined this issue by wanking off a man in a toilet. In conclusion, your sexuality is innate. ~ Anonymous

Jazz presumes that it would be nice if the four of us--simpatico dudes that we are--while playing this complicated song together, might somehow be free and autonomous as well. Tragically, this never quite works out. At best, we can only be free one or two at a time--while the other dudes hold onto the wire. Which is not to say that no one has tried to dispense with wires. Many have, and sometimes it works--but it doesn't feel like jazz when it does. The music simply drifts away into the stratosphere of formal dialectic, beyond our social concerns.

Rock-and-roll, on the other hand, presumes that the four of us--as damaged and anti-social as we are--might possibly get it to-fucking-gether, man, and play this simple song. And play it right, okay? Just this once, in tune and on the beat. But we can't. The song's too simple, and we're too complicated and too excited. We try like hell, but the guitars distort, the intonation bends, and the beat just moves, imperceptibly, against our formal expectations, whetehr we want it to or not. Just because we're breathing, man. Thus, in the process of trying to play this very simple song together, we create this hurricane of noise, this infinitely complicated, fractal filigree of delicate distinctions.

And you can thank the wanking eighties, if you wish, and digital sequencers, too, for proving to everyone that technologically "perfect" rock--like "free" jazz--sucks rockets. Because order sucks. I mean, look at the Stone ~ Dave Hickey