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Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

“On the eighth day, the forty-year-old hobo said to Billy: "This ain't bad. I can be comfortable anywhere." "You can?" said Billy. On the ninth day the hobo died. So it goes. His last words were: "You think this is bad? This ain't bad.”

Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

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Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut was an American writer known for his unique humor and profound satire. His works often explore themes of war, humanity, society, and politics. His most famous works include 'Slaughterhouse-Five' and 'Cat's Cradle'. His writing style has been widely appreciated by readers and has had a profound impact on literature. more

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“Look at your “hobophobia.” If there is one group of people our majority population fear and despise it is rootless, nomadic individuals with no stake in society. They offend simply by “opting out”—of property, commitments, beliefs, relationships, expectations. Many such people have turned their backs on a society they don’t understand or can’t cope with. They have absconded from the pressures to compete, to perform, to sell out, to join in the dance of bureaucracy, money worries, cohabitation, housekeeping, procreation, you-name-it. Society is right to fear such people because they embody the sane rejection of many insanely onerous “civilized” values that would collapse under scrutiny. Strangely, though, society also makes an idol of Jesus, apparently a nomad who had no possessions or family ties, who walked away from a promising career in carpentry, a hobo if ever there was one. (We haven’t, however, made a popular hero out of Diogenes, the ultimate dirty Greek hobo.)”

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Book:Keeping Ourselves in the Dark
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“En route to California I had a few drinks with an American executive for Falstaff Brewing Company who said he'd been a hobo from '37 to '39. He talked about a friend of his who had lost his legs beneath a freight train and died. He told me he knew something about farm labor contractors. "Killers," he called them. And said it again, "Killers.”

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Book:The Road to Yuba City: A Journey into the Juan Corona Murders
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“Nastavio sam da njuškam letnji suton. Nema adrenalina bez benzina. Točkovi su strugali, frikcija se pojačavala. Zavirivao sam u senovite prolaze tržnih centara: profesionalni lažnjaci se uvaljuju profesionalnim amaterima. Dauntaun je pomirljivo tonuo u daun. Prizor liči na razglednicu unutrašnjosti. Glavna vena Nišvila je definitivno predozirana bednjikavim gruvom. Ovaj grad je elementarna nepogoda. Sve je manje fliperana i klubova sa džuboks aparatima. Sve je manje poslastičara u kojima služe bozu i kadif. Sve je manje knjižara u kojima se prodaju knjige. Sve je manje dobrih stripova i porno časopisa na buvljacima. Sve je manje bioskopa koji ne zvrje prazni i gde dronjavo platno ne liči na paravan u seoskim ambulantama. Nema patine u Nišvilu, osim one švercovane - za brzu prodaju i brzu upotrebu. Jebi ga, ponekad mi nedostaje moji grad.Sve je više neona na pogrešnim mestima, i sve je više pogrešnih mesta, i sve je više ljudi koji umiru od želje da se zabave i ispričaju nekome kako je zabavno bilo. "Niko ovde nije poludeo od zabave", rekla je Kinki kada je kupila nove uredjaje za koje nije bilo dovoljno da ih uključiš u struju pa da prorade. Morao si da povezuješ komponente, tumačeći nacrtana uputstva da bi se, napokon, pojavila slika i zvuk - jasniji i čistiji od prethodnih slika i zvukova.”

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“You're supposed to be a spirit of intellect. I don't understand why you're obsessed with sex." Bob's voice got defensive. "It's an academic interest, Harry." "Oh yeah? Well maybe I don't think it's fair to let your academia go peeping in other people's houses." "Wait a minute. My academia doesn't just peep -" I held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear it." He grunted. "You're trivializing what getting out for a bit means to me, Harry. You're insulting my masculinity." "Bob," I said, "you're a skull . You don't have any masculinity to insult." "Oh yeah?" Bob challenged me. "Pot kettle black, Harry! Have you gotten a date yet? Huh? Most men have something better to do in the middle of the night than play with their chemistry sets.”

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Book:Storm Front
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“He also said that I would never get an apology out of you.” There was a long pause. “I want one. Now.” Xcor put aside his soup and found himself searching the wounds he had given himself, recalling all that pain, all that blood—which had dried brown on the floorboards beneath him. “And then what,” he said in a rough voice. “You’ll have to find out.” Fair enough, Xcor thought. Without grace—not that he had any, anyway—he rose to his feet. At his full height, he was unsteady for too many reasons to count, and the off-balance feeling got even worse as he met the eyes of his… friend. Looking Throe in the face, he stepped up and put out his palm. “I am sorry.” Three simple words spoken loud and clear. And they didn’t go nearly far enough. “I was wrong to treat you as I did. I am… not as much of the Bloodletter as I thought—as I have e’er wanted to be.”

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Book:Lover Reborn
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