Why I Even Bother Quotes

And I would not blame you if you still asked, Why bother to make contact with kindred spirits you never see and may never hear from, who perhaps do not even exist except in your hopes? Why spend ten years in an apprenticeship to fiction only to discover that this society so little values what you do that it won't pay you a living wage for it? ~ Wallace Stegner

He stood up. "Let's go." The sun spilling through the window hit his chest, making his bare skin look even more golden.
"That's okay," she sputtered. "You don't have to ... tag along."
"Yes, I do. I'm your shadow until after breakfast."
Oh great. Her gaze slipped down to his open shirt again. Was she going to have to look, or try not to look, at his chest all morning? "Then at least button your shirt." The words were out before she realised how that sounded.
The disappointment in his eyes vanished and a sexy twinkle took its place. The twinkle brought out the gold flecks in his irises, which she used to admire so much.
"Why?" he asked. "Does it bother you?"
She glared at him. "Don't go there. ~ C.C. Hunter

You stand there all tan and glowing and wonder why I use Voice on you?" he bellowed. "Where the hell do you get off? You've been with V'lane again. How many slaps in the face do you think I'm going to take, Ms. Lane?" He grabbed my fist and held it when I tried to punch him again. I swung at him with the other. He caught that, too. "I warned you not to play us against each other."
"I'm not playing you! I'm trying to survive. And I don't slap you when I go off with V'lane!" I tried to yank my fists from his hands. "It doesn't have anything to do with you. I'm trying to get answers, and since you won't give me any, you can't blame me for going somewhere else."
"So, the man who doesn't get laid at home has the right to go off and cheat?"
"Huh?"
"Which word didn't you understand?" he sneered.
"You're the one who's crippled by illogic. This isn't home, it never will be, and nobody's getting laid!" I practically shouted.
"You think I don't know that?" He shifted his body beneath me, making me painfully aware of something. Two somethings, in fact, one of which was how far up my short skirt was. The other wasn't my problem. I wriggled, to shimmy my hem down, but his expression perished the thought. When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn't even bother trying.
Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think she's nuts. Nuts, I tell you.
"Let go of my ~ Karen Marie Moning

You know what, Sam? We created the council to take pressure off of you. Because you were falling apart."
Sam just stared at her. Not quite believing she'd said it. And Astrid seemed shocked herself. Shocked at the venom behind her own words.
"I didn't mean…," she started lamely, but then couldn't find her way to explaining just what it was she didn't mean.
Sam shook his head. "You know, even now, as long as we've been together it still surprises me that you can be so ruthless."
"Ruthless? Me?"
"You will use anyone to get what you want. Say anything to get your way. Why was I ever even in charge?" He stabbed an accusing finger at her. "Because of you! Because you manipulated me into it. Why? So I would protect you and Little Pete. That's all you cared about."
"That's a lie!" she said hotly.
"You know it's the truth. And now you don't have to bother manipulating me, you can just give me orders. Embarrass me. Undercut me. But as soon as some problem hits, guess what? It'll be, oh, please, Sam, save us."
"Anything I do, I do for everyone's good," Astrid said.
"Yeah, so you're not just a genius now, you're a saint. ~ Michael Grant

Officer Downing pulls into the driveway next to Mom's car. Of course she's home. I don't know why I even wasted hope that she wouldn't be. Maybe because I'm eighteen, which means they don't bother calling your parents to the scene. But even if I'm not a victim of the law, I'm a victim of the small-town grapevine. A victim of flashing blue lights, whispered scorn, and heads shaking in disapproval. And, boy, do I feel like a victim, because not only is she home, she's standing on the front porch, arms crossed. Waiting.
Officer Downing opens the back door to the low-budget cop car that smells like vinyl, BO, and humiliation. I step out. He hands me my backpack, which Rachel was so kind to bring out when we dropped Rayna off at Galen's house. She was also kind enough not to kill me for showing up at her house with a cop. ~ Anna Banks

Of course, the Big Bad Wolf does yoga, Sabrina thought. Why did I even bother to ask? ~ Michael Buckley

To the average eye, my bedroom was a complete disaster. The floor was hardly visible with all of the empty soda bottles, chip bags, and piles of clothes covering it. The rustic nightstand by my bed was so cluttered with papers, more soda bottles, notebooks, and hoodies that it looked like a pile of contemporary art. And my bed? It was just a pile of dark blue blankets and pillows scattered on an old mattress. What's the point in making your bed, anyway? You're just gonna mess it up and unmake it at the end of the day. Why even bother? My bedroom might look like a mess to anyone else, but to me, it was my own personal oasis. I liked it just the way it was. I never bought the whole saying, "A cluttered room is a cluttered mind." Me? Cluttered? Nah. More like creative. The more cluttered your room is, the more creative you are. And judging by my room, I must be pretty creative. I ~ Savannah Ostler

I wanted him dead too, so that if I couldn't stop thinking about him and worrying about when would be the next time I'd see him, at least his death would put an end to it. I wanted to kill him myself, even, so as to let him know how much his mere existence had come to bother me, how unbearable his ease with everything and everyone, taking all things in stride, his tireless I'm-okay-with-this-and-that, his springing across the gate to the beach when everyone else opened the latch first, to say nothing of his bathings suits, his spot in paradise, his cheeky Later!, his lip-smacking love for apricot juice. If I didn't kill him, then I'd cripple him for life, so that he'd be with us in a wheelchair and never go back to the States. If he were in a wheelchair, I would always know where he was, and he'd be easy to find. I would feel superior to him and become his master, now that he was crippled.

Then it hit me that I could have killed myself instead, or hurt myself badly enough and let him know why I'd done it. If I hurt my face, I'd want him to look at me and wonder why, why might anyone do this to himself, until, years and years later--yes, Later!--he'd finally piece the puzzle together and beat his head against the wall. ~ Andre Aciman

What? (Nick)
You one of them humans can't follow Simi speak. That's okay. This is why the Simi don't bother talking to most humans 'cause, no offense, you all weird. Some of you even stupid. Real stupid. Like stump stupid. It's the lack of hornays, I say. See, only really smart creatures have hornays…except for them moo moo cows – they not bright. But akri says there's always an exception to every rule. So they would be the exception to the hornay one. But they taste really good so the Simi will forgive them for bringing down her bell curve of superior intellect over all the other nonhorned subspecies. (Simi ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

I have heard of managers who encourage players not to slide hard for fear they will get hurt and be lost from the lineup for a time. That is why you occasionally see a player go into second base on a double-play ball and not even bother to slide. I wonder, could Ty Cobb
sit though plays like that and hold his lunch? ~ Frank Robinson

Memorization has gotten a bad rap recently. Lots of students, and even some educators, say that being able to reason is more important than knowing facts; and besides, why bother committing things to memory when you've got Google? My response to this - after I've finished inwardly groaning - is that of course reasoning is important, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't know facts as well. It's not like you have to choose between one or the other. Besides, facts give you a foundation on which to reason about things. ~ Stefanie Weisman

Ian's method of dealing with Sir Francis Belhaven - who, his grandfather had discovered, was boasting that Elizabeth had spent several days with him - was less subtle and even more effective. "Belhaven," Ian said after spending a half hour searching for the repulsive knight.
The stout man had whirled around in surprise, leaving his acquaintances straining to hear Ian's low conversation with him. "I find your presence repugnant," Ian had said in a dangerously quiet voice. "I dislike your coat, I dislike your shirt, and I dislike the knot in your neckcloth. In fact, I dislike you. Have I offended you enough yet, or shall I continue?"
Belhaven's mouth dropped open, his pasty face turning a deathly gray. "Are - are you trying to force a - duel?"
"Normally one doesn't bother shooting a repulsive toad, but in this instance I'm prepared to make an exception, since this toad doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut!"
"A duel, with you?" he gasped. "Why, it would be no contest - none at all. Everyone knows what kind of marksman you are. It would be murder."
Ian leaned close, speaking between his clenched teeth. "It's going to be murder, you miserable little opium-eater, unless you suddenly remember very vocally that you've been joking about Elizabeth Cameron's visit."
At the mention of opium the glass slid from his fingers and crashed to the floor. "I have just realized I was joking."
"Good," Ian said, restraining the urge to strangle him. "Now start ~ Judith McNaught

No?" Mac taunted, "'Cause not even three weeks have passed since I talked you into forgettin' your precious rules. I seriously doubt much has changed in terms of feelings. From where I'm standin' it looks like you're either a coward, or a selfish prick playin' push and pull with me, and right now I'm wonderin' why the hell I should bother with you. ~ Taylor V. Donovan

You cling so tightly to your purity, my lad! How terrified you are of sullying your hands. Well, go ahead then, stay pure! What good will it do, and why even bother coming here among us? Purity is a concept of fakirs and friars. But you, the intellectuals, the bourgeois anarchists, you invoke purity as your rationalization for doing nothing. Do nothing, don't move, wrap your arms tight around your body, put on your gloves. As for myself, my hands
are dirty. I have plunged my arms up to the elbows in excrement and blood. And what else should one do? Do you suppose that it is possible to govern
innocently? ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

There's this really amazing quote from Jim Jarmusch about celebrating your theft that I think has become more and more prominent in music: "It's not where you got it from, it's where you take it." To me, that's just an integral part of why I even bother making music. I don't mind that I've created an identity around what I do. ~ Alan Palomo

Something else that puzzles me about other people is that a lot of them don't know their purpose in life. This usually does bother them - more than not being able to remember being born, anyway - but I can't even imagine it. Part of knowing who I am is knowing why I am, and I've always known who I am, from the first moment. ~ Matt Ruff

Nothing can burst your fatherly bubble faster than hearing your daughter come home from a date and saying: 'Some nights I don't know why I even bother to wear panties'. ~ David Henry

Let's go to the festival," he said. He was too thin, I thought. There were shadows under his cheekbones where flesh should have been, in a face so young. "No Ryzek. Just you and me."
I stared down at his upturned palm. He offered touch to me so freely, without realizing how rare it was. How rare he was, to a person like me.
"Why?" I said.
"What?"
"You've been nice to me recently." I furrowed my brow. "You're being nice to me now. Why? What's in it for you?"
"Growing up here really has warped you, hasn't it?"
"Growing up here," I clarified, "has made me see the truth about people."
He sighed, like he disagreed with me but didn't want to bother to argue. He sighed that way a lot. "We spend a lot of time together, Cyra. Being nice is a matter of survival."
"I'll be recognized. The currentshadows are memorable, even if my face is not."
"You won't have any currentshadows. You'll be with me." He cocked his head to the side. "Or are you really that uncomfortable with touching me?"
It was a challenge. And maybe a manipulation. ~ Veronica Roth

Like, I mean I don't even know why you girls bother at this point. Like give it up, it's me. I win and you lose. ~ Nicki Minaj

I realize that idealism is out of sync with the cynicism of our age. Skepticism has come to be synonymous with sophistication, and glibness is mistaken for intelligence. In such an atmosphere, why bother aiming high? Far too many people don't. I just want to reassure people to have the courage to persevere, to keep following their hearts even when others scoff. Don't be beaten down by naysayers. Don't let the odds scare you from even trying. ~ Howard Schultz

I don't think I'm an exceptionally bad reader. I suspect that many people, maybe even most, are like me. We read and read and read,
and we forget and forget and forget. So why do we bother? Michel de Montaigne expressed the dilemma of extensive reading in the
sixteenth century: "I leaf through books, I do not study them," he wrote. "What I retain of them is something I no longer recognize as anyone else's.
It is only the material from which my judgment has profited, and the thoughts and ideas with which it has become imbued;
the author, the place, the words, and other circumstances, I immediately forget." He goes on to explain how "to compensate a
little for the treachery and weakness of my memory," he adopted the habit of writing in the back of every book a short critical
judgment, so as to have at least some general idea of what the tome was about and what he thought of it. ~ Joshua Foer

I don't glorify the dead. If I didn't care if they were still alive, why do I even bother when they are dead. If I love a person when they are still alive, they will remain in my mind and in my heart when they die. ~ Ann Marie Aguilar

I d-duh-don't know wh-why you even b-buh -bother b-buh-because in s-six y-yuh-years y-you're g-guh-going to be j-juh-just l-like - ""Don't say that."Something inside me went cold. "I'm never going to be like him. ~ Joe Schreiber

Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T. S. Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to. Like that lovely pair we just met." He sighs and twirls the long slender pencil in his hand. "Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas-- none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't. With those women--I should've just let it slide, or else called Miss Saeki and let her handle it. She would have given them a smile and smoothed things over. But I just can't do "do that. I say things I shouldn't, do things I shouldn't do. I can't control myself. That's one of my weak points. Do you know why that's a weak point of mine?"
"'Cause if you take every single person who lacks much imagination seriously, there's no end to it," I say. ~ Haruki Murakami

In modelling, there is no point in trying to prove you have a brain, so why even bother? I'd sooner save the energy for something more meaningful. ~ Helena Christensen

I painted stars and the moon and clouds and just endless, dark sky." I finished the sixth, and was well on my way sawing through the seventh before I said, "I never knew why. I rarely went outside at night - usually, I was so tired from hunting that I just wanted to sleep. But I wonder ... " I pulled out the seventh and final arrow. "I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire - but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn't bother to look, but to only fear it ... Then I didn't particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place - looking for you all. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe. ~ Jandy Nelson

I closed my eyes. "Crap. I'm not ready to start Clocking again. The trip back to get Ringo was fine because I kind of know the Victorian rules. And Victorians believe in bathing." I grimaced and Archer laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. "And don't even get me started on street-dumping chamber pots. Seriously? Why even bother. Just dangle your business out the window and let fly. It's the same thing." Archer's ~ April White

That's the hard part of overdosing on cherries-you have all the pits to tell you exactly how many you ate. Not more or less. Exactly. One-seed fruits really bother me for that reason. That's why I'd always rather eat raisins than prunes. Prune pits are even more imposing than cherry pits. ~ Andy Warhol

I don't know," I said. "Maybe you're right, and all that stuff I think I missed is overrated. Why should I even bother? What's the point really?"
He thought for a moment. "Who says there has to be a point?" he asked. "Or a reason. Maybe it's just something you have to do."
He moved down to start bagging while I just stood there, letting this sink in. Just something you have to do. No excuse or rationale necessary. I kind of like that. ~ Sarah Dessen

Barrons' head whipped around and he stared at me. You said nothing of this to me?
You said nothing to me about my mother? What do you know about her? About me?
His dark gaze promised retribution for my oversight.
So did mine.
I hated this. Barrons and I were enemies. It confused my head and hurt my heart. I'd grieved him as if I'd lost the only person who mattered to me, and now here we were, adversaries again. Were we destined to be eternal enemies?
One of us is going to have to trust the other, I told him.
Your first, Ms. Lane.
That was the whole problem. Neither of us would take the risk. I had a lengthy list of reasons why I shouldn't, and they were sound. My daddy could take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, arguing my side. Barrons didn't inspire trust. He didn't even bother trying.
When hell freezes over, Barrons.
Same bloody page, Ms. Lane. Same bloody -
I turned my gaze away in the middle of his sentence, the ocular equivalent of flipping him the bird.
Ryodan was watching us, hard.
"Butt out," I warned. "This is between him and me. All you need to do is keep my parents safe and - "
"Little hard to do when you're such a fucking loose cannon. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Hey, if I don't have a job, I don't know why I bother to get up. Any time the phone rings, I'm ready to go. What else am I going to do? See, I've never retired. I don't even know what it means. ~ Morgan Freeman

I opened my mouth to reply, but then closed it again. Talking to Mom was a bit like trying to fold a fitted sheet: no matter how hard you try, it always ends up a lumpy, crooked mess. So why even bother? (Page 120) ~ Marci Lyn Curtis

How did he know my dad helped get me this job? Did someone in the office tell him? I mean, it's not like I'm some spoiled, incompetent rich kid with zero work experience and mega connections. My dad's just aCPA! But I'm not going to bother explaining that or anything else. Because right now, I'm halfway convinced a hole in my skull has blown right off and my brains are flowing out like molten lava. I think I might well and truly hate Porter Roth.

"You know nothing about me or my family. And you're a goddamn dickbag, you know that?" I say, so enraged that I don't even care that a family of four is walking up to my window. I should have. And I should have noticed that I left the green switch turned on from the last pair of tickets I sold. But the family's wide-eyed faces clue me in now.

They've heard every nasty word.

For one terrible moment, the booth spins around me. I apologize profusely, but the parents aren't happy. At all. Why should they be? Oh God, is the wife wearing a crucifix pendant? What if these people are fundamentalists? Are these kids homeschooled? Did I just ruin them for life? Jesus fu - I mean, fiddlesticks. Are they going to ask to speak to Mr. Cavadini? Am I going to be fired? On my first day? What is my dad going to say? ~ Jenn Bennett

Do you ever think about it? About nothingness. I do, I think about it all the time. Because of course it's nothingness that awaits us. Of course it is. If it weren't why would our hearts keep pumping any longer than they had to? Why wouldn't we all emerge into the world pure and innocent, and then before we had a chance to get in any trouble, before we had a chance to take our first oily shit, just immediately shut down our systems and head straight to the hereafter? If there were a better life after death, why bother getting fitter for survival's sake? Why would evolution even be a thing? Why fight for something second best? If death was really awesome, in a life or death situation, our bodies wouldn't muscle up with epinephrine and cortisol. Our brains would hit us up instead with sloppy, sleepy happy love. Hannibal Lecter would be our Mickey Mouse. No, there's fuckall to look forward to. Our bodies understand this. The real problem is, it's unbearable to know this. So we cope. ~ Elizabeth Little

I would save studying for a test until the night before the test because I didn't know if I was even going to be alive to take it anyway, so why bother? This was the attitude of all my friends. ~ Brigitte Gabriel

I don't think you should try to be loyal to your century or your opinions, because you are being loyal to them all the time. You have a certain voice, a certain kind of face, a certain way of writing, and you can't run away from them even if you want to. So why bother to be modern or contemporary, since you can't be anything else? ~ Jorge Luis Borges

You're only gonna get in trouble, so why even bother?"
"I bother because it's wrong. I bother because you don't deserve it. I bother because you fucking mean something to the girl I'm head over heels for and Eric, I bother because you mean something to me. ~ Melyssa Winchester

Can't you just thank me and get over it?"
"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.
"You're not going to let it go, are you?"
"No."
"In that case ... I hope you enjoy disappointment."
We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.
"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.
He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.
"I don't know," he whispered. ~ Stephenie Meyer

My dad finds Twitter just infinitely unrelatable. He's like, 'Why would I want to tell anybody what I had for a snack, it's private?!' And I'm like, 'Why would you even have a snack if you didn't tell anybody? Why bother eating?' ~ Lena Dunham

As I look around on Sunday morning at the people populating the pews, I see the risk that God has assumed. For whatever reason, God now reveals himself in the world not through a pillar of smoke and fire, not even through the physical body of his Son in Galilee, but through the mongrel collection that comprises my local church and every other such gathering in God's name. (p. 68, Church: Why Bother?) ~ Philip Yancey

People think that they can love only when they find a worthy partner - nonsense! You will never find one. People think they will love only when they find a perfect man or a perfect woman. Nonsense! You will never find them, because perfect women and perfect men don't exist. And if they exist, they won't bother about your love. They will not be interested. I have heard about a man who remained a bachelor his whole life because he was in search of a perfect woman. When he was seventy, somebody asked, "You have been traveling and traveling - from New York to Kathmandu, from Kathmandu to Rome, from Rome to London you have been searching. Could you not find a perfect woman? Not even one?" The old man became very sad. He said, "Yes, once I did. One day, long ago, I came across a perfect woman." The inquirer said, "Then what happened? Why didn't you get married?" Sadly, the old man said, "What to do? She was looking for a perfect man. ~ Osho

You think you betrayed me and one day I will kill you for it.
I'm not sure why I even bother talking. My eyes flashed with temper. I hated being transparent.
That you allied with Darroc to attain your goals did not betray me. I'd have done the same.
Then why are you so pissy?
That you fucked him will be forgiven once you fuck me. Another woman might run headlong toward absolution. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Why does she even bother sleeping?" I heard Elizabeth ask quietly. "You'd think by now she'd stop trying. We don't need it."
I paused, waiting to hear Miaka's response. "She must have a really wonderful dream often enough to make the bad ones worth it. ~ Kiera Cass

What are we talking about?" Alex says. "This is fucking nonsense."

The couple ahead of us turns slightly.

"What are you looking at?" Alex says to them.

I don't bother to reprimand her, because really, what are they looking at? I slow my pace and Alex punches Scottie in the arm.

"Ow!" Scottie screams.

"Alex! Why are we still on this pattern?"

"Hit her back, Dad," Scottie yells.

Alex grabs Scottie's neck.

"You're hurting me," Scottie says.

"That's kind of the point," Alex says.

I grab both children by the arm and pull them down to the sand. Sid covers his mouth with his hand and bends over, laughing silently.

"'What do you love about Mom?'" Alex says, mimicking her sister. "Shut up, already. And stop babying her."

I sit down between them and don't say a word. Sid sits next to Alex. "Easy, tiger," he says. I look at the waves crashing down on the sand. A few women walk by and give me this knowing look, as though a father with his kids is such a precious sight. It takes so little to be revered as a father. I can tell the girls are waiting for me to say something, but what can I say that hasn't been said? I've shouted, I've reasoned, I've even spanked. Nothing works.

"What do you love about Mom, Scottie?" I ask, glaring at Alex.

She takes a moment to think. "Lots of stuff. She's not old and ugly, like most moms."

"What ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

Starry Eyed"

Oh, boy you're starry eyed
Lay back, baby lay back
You've got heaven in your eyes
I like that, boy I like that

Life doesn't always work out
Like you planned it
They say make lemonade out of lemons
But I try and I just can't understand it
All this trying for no good reason
Man makes plans and God laughs
Why do I even bother to ask?
Well, once you and I, we were the king and queen of this town
It doesn't matter now
The sun set on our love, bye baby
Oh, boy you're starry eyed
Lay back, baby lay back
You've got heaven in your eyes
I like that, boy I like that
Life doesn't always work out
Like you planned it
They say make lemonade out of lemons
But I try and I can't understand it
All this bragging for not good reason
Man makes plans and God laughs
Why do I even bother to ask?
Well, once you and I, we were the king and queen of this town
It doesn't matter now
The sun set on our love, bye, bye baby
Oh, boy you're starry eyed
Lay back, baby lay back
You've got heaven in your eyes
I like that, boy I like that
It doesn't matter what they say
Let's go do it anyway
'Cause you and I have an undying kind of love
You can be mine, I'll be yours, be my baby
Oh, boy you're starry eyed
Lay back, baby lay back
You've got heaven in your eyes
I like that, boy I like that
~ Lana Del Rey

I don't know what I'm trying to say. I don't know what any of this is really about. Why we bother. Why we're here. Why we love. I had a family, and they were everything to me, and I didn't even know it when I had them. I had a girl, and she was everything to me, and I knew it every second I had her. I lost them all. Everything a guy could ever want. I found my way home again, but don't be fooled. Nothing's the same as before. I'm not sure I'd want it to be. ~ Kami Garcia

More raiders came down the stairs prodding the Reverend Dr. Lionel J. D. Jones, the Black Fuehrer, and Father Keeley before them.
Dr. Jones stopped halfway down the stairs, confronted his tormentors. 'All I've done, 'he said majestically, 'is do what you people should be doing.'
'What should we be doing?' said a G-man. He was obviously in command of the raid.
'Protecting the Republic,' said Jones. 'Why bother us? Everything we do is to make the country stronger! Join with us, and let's go after the people who are trying to make it weaker!'
'Who's that?' said the G-man.
'I have to tell you?' said Jones. 'Haven't you even found that in the course of your work? The Jews! The Catholics! The Negroes! The Orientals! The Unitarians! The foreign-born, who don't have any understanding of democracy, who play right into the hands of the socialists, the communists, the anarchists, the anti-Christs and the Jews!'
'For your information,' said the G-man in cool triumph, 'I am a Jew.'
'That proves what I've just been saying!' said Jones.
'How's that?', said the G-man.
'The Jews have infiltrated everything!' said Jones, smiling the smile of a logician who could never be topped.
'You talk about the Catholics and the Negroes-' said the G-man, 'and yet your two best friends are a Catholic and a Negro.'
'What's so mysterious about that?' said Jones.
'Don't you hate them?', said the G-man.
'Certainly not,' said Jones. 'We all believe ~ Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Taxicabs might seem like a luxury item, and given the profound needs of so many disabled people in New York, why would we bother with taxis? I contend that even if you need a taxi once a year - there are times when you need a taxi. ~ Simi Linton