Robert Stone Quotes

This way madness lies.

A different voice sounded from the field now, an old man's voice.
"Where are they now," the voice asked sadly, "those godly farms, the dear little streets of homely homes and friendly faces? Ploughed under, I say, or about to be - in this black age of arrogance and agitation, misfits and miscegenation! Friends, a teeming rootless rabble gnaws at the sacred fabric of our way of life. The sun shone less brightly on God's country this morning."

But you got to hang on, she thought. You got to hang on because if you lose hold you'll just break up and drift off and go washin' off the edge of this fuckin' world, you'll just melt down into a sprinkle of powder with nobody there, you'll be sawdust for them to sweep up or spit into.

We're at a very primitive stage of mankind," Nolan declared, "that's what people don't understand. Just pick up the Times on any given day and you've got a catalogue of ape behaviour. Strip away the slogans and excuses and verbiage, the so-called ideology, and you're reading about what one pack of chimpanzees did to another.

"I know that in the United States people are what they choose to be," he said.

There were two hungers and an illusion of fulfilment.

What I wonder," Bob Cole said in his strange tremulous voice, "is whether the people down here have to live this way so that we can live the way we do. We have to believe it's no, don't we? We couldn't face up to it otherwise. Because if most of the world lives in this kind of poverty so that we can have our goodies and our extra protein ration - what does that make us?

Are we friends today?" she asked him.
"There's a level, Justin, on which we're always friends. Then there's a level on which we can't be.

If somebody ever tells you, Geraldine, that they need you, you tell them to buy a dog.

With the thought came the recollection of a poem he had once heard read, about a mouse so frightened it went to the cat for love.

The Deep Six comes for all, babe, the rich man and Lazarus.

He kept not looking at her. This, Sonia had come to realize, usually meant something, though it was often difficult to decide what. Shyness, morbid hypersensitivity and homicidal racism could all assume the same aspect.

You goin' to get killed one time, you know that?
"You don't never get out of this world alive.

The fact is," Nuala said, "we're in different situations. For each of us it's different.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Holliwell declaimed, "esteemed colleagues." Who in hell, he wondered, are these people?