Entrepreneurs need to listen. They don't need to be good listeners (although it can only help) but they need to know when to listen.
I guess I'm just courtly until people get in my way. You'll find most Southerners are like that.
Breakfast is a personal ritual that can only be properly observed alone, and in a spirit of genuine excess. The food factor should always be massive: four Bloody Marys, two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crepes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon, or corned beef hash with diced chiles, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of Key lime pie, two margaritas, and six lines of the best cocaine for dessert.
The mind of America is seized by a fatal dry rot - and it's only a question of time before all that the mind controls will run amuck in a frenzy of stupid, impotent fear.
I miss Nixon. Compared to these Nazis we have in the White House now, Richard Nixon was a flaming liberal.
Call on God, but row away from the rocks.
I wasn't trying to be an outlaw writer. I never heard of that term; somebody else made it up. But we were all outside the law: Kerouac, Miller, Burroughs, Ginsberg, Kesey; I didn't have a gauge as to who was the worst outlaw. I just recognized allies: my people.
When you check your own mind properly, you stop blaming others for your problems.
Stop smiling!” she ordered. “I can see you, Carter. Oh…and, uh, hullo, Walt. ” The pot monster made squeaky grinding noises as it stood up straight. One clunky arm rose and tried to fix Sadie’s nonexistent hair. Leave it to Sadie to be self-conscious around boys, even when she’s made out of pots and duct tape.
It's his word against the Commander's, unless he wants to head a posse. Kick in the door, and what did I tell you? Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words.
We're living in such a fantasy world where nothing makes sense anymore.