Top 15 Christopher Moore Quotes

Pocket: Do you know that there's no fool piece on the chessboard, Kent?
Kent: Methinks the fool is the player, the mind above the moves.
Pocket: Well, that's a scratchy spot of cat wank. But bloody well said.

Regan: Smell him. He reeks of sex, like fish and mushroom and sweat, doesn't he?
Pocket: Aye, your honor, I'm sure I have an odor about me. I must confess, I was sans trou today in the kitchen, while awaiting my laundry. Bubble had left a casserole out on the floor to cool, and it did trip me and I fell prick-deep in gravy and goo- but I was on my way to chapel at the time.
King Lear: [To Pocket] You put your dick in my lunch?
King Lear: [to the bailiff] The fool put his dick in my lunch?
Regan: No, in your beloved daughter.
King Lear: Quiet, girl! Captain Curran, send a guard to watch the bread and the cheese before the fool has his way with it.

King Lear: How hath my fool offended?
Regan: He hath shagged me roughly, against my will, and finished too soon.
King Lear: By force- Pocket? He isn't eight-stone on a feast day- he couldn't shag a cat by force.
Pocket: That's not true, sire. If the cat is distracted with a trout, then - well, uh, never mind.

King Lear: What is your name?
Kent / Caius: Caius.
King Lear: And whence do you hale?
Kent / Caius: From Bonking, Sire.
King Lear: Well, yes, lad as do we all.

The Ghost: I'm sorry to haunt you while you're rogering the help.
Pocket: The rogering has not commenced, wisp. I have barely bridled the horse for a moist and bawdy ride. Now, go away!

Cordelia: You honor us, Fool. Did you hear rumors of small animals to hurt or were you hoping to accidentally surprise me in my bath again?
Pocket: I was lost, Milady.
Cordelia: A dozen times?

Mary: You can read?
Pocket: I was raised in a nunnery, wench. I'm a walking library of learning bound in comely leather, suitable for stroking at your service, should you fancy a bit of culture to go with your lack of breeding...or vice verse of course.

Fancy a spot of stony bonking before vespers?

And so that is the story of how St. Rufus of Pipewrench was licked to death by marmots.

I fink I gots deaf on me willie.

She's a bloody vision of loveliness.

And once I shagged Regan on a platter of pork in front of Muslims.

Gentle spook, if it is a warning you bring, state it true. If action you require, ask outright. If music you must make, play on- but by the wine-stained balls of Bacchus, speak your bloody business quick and clear and then be gone, before Time's iron tongue licks away my mercy bonk with second thoughts!

Said I, in perfect fucking French.

Heinous fuckery most foul!