Quotes from Charlie Huston

and look down the glowing store front of a 24 hr bodega. I am not overly concerned about going in there with one bare foot and a considerable amount of dried blood on my clothing. This is the Bronx after all. But best to minimize the visual impact I might make.

At Marcy I spot what I am looking for and shimmy up a lampost and untangle the pair of sneakers that some kid has tossed up there that dangle in testement to some shit that I have never figured out as long as I have lived in this city. I sit on the curb and stuff my feet inside leaving the laces undone. There too small but the right one fits a little better than the left. Not having a big toe is already paying off.

Don't make me come out there and spray you, blanco. I point at my one eye. "Better have some sharpshooter fucking aim you want that shit to do any good.

I could flay you and wear your skin as a cloak, and caper in the streets in the moonlight. But some might consider that crass treatment of a guest. I nod. "Well, some people got no sense of humor, do they? "I am one of those people.

Sunt, dupa standartele omenirii, in toate mintile. E adevarat ca am ceva manii, dar nu frizeaza nebunia.

There something I can do to get this over with quick? Like, can I just run in front of a cab and take my lumps and we call it even? As opposed to you cutting off my nose and all, I mean.

Or maybe this is the true order. To bring together the need with the thind that is needed.

The general air of insecurity and affection made it too easy for him to imagine these once-a-year fabulous creatures as the cubicle dwellers most of them were in everyday life.

That's what happens when you get a regular job, other people's shit becomes your problem. 'Course, by the time you got that figured, it's up around your ears and you're just trying to keep your fucking mouth shut.

We had long passed the stage where the consequences of tactical armed response were weighed in advance.

I size him up. A pasty jumble of limbs in latex-tight sharkskin slacks with three inches of white socks showing at the ankles above two-tone patent leather, a jacket matching the slacks stretched over narrow shoulders and an embroidered cowboy shirt with silver caps on the points of the collar, a bolo tie featuring a cockroach frozen in amber snug around his throat.

Ca oameni, nu facem decât s? ne prezent?m. Compunem imaginea pe care vrem s-o vad? ceilalÅ£i ÅŸi sper?m c? ei au s-o citeasc? aÅŸa cum am scris-o noi. Toat? lumea face asta.

We are what we do. If you want to change, you have to work at it. Change what you do. You have to repeat and reinforce. Over and over. Do the same thing again and again. Until it is you.

There were vets. Men and women who'd left the battlefield with new scales of affect. Dulled to any scenario that did not involve screaming sirens, the unbalanced sway inside a speeding vehicle, pop of small arms, deafening shudder of helicopter blades just overhead, and blood, still wet, squelching underfoot.

Everything hurts. People are talking in the halls, but no one seems to be evacuating the building. This is the nature of New York City: alarms go off so often that no one wants to respond to them until things start burning down or blowing up in front of their eyes.

Parker Haas, crying Omaha, and his sleepless Rose.

I'm on page 65 of 368 of Sleepless: I would never dream of killing an excellent tailor, not even to keep a secret that could endanger my life.

I would never dream of killing an excellent tailor, not even to keep a secret that could endanger my life.

Women. You tell me they're not all witches, and I'll tell you you haven't been paying attention.

One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.

One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.

Things are as bad as you fear they are. People are as bad as you think they are. The Universe does not care.

Women. You tell me they're not all witches, and I'll tell you you haven't been paying attention.

For there is nothing quite so terror-inducing as the loss of sleep. It creates phantoms and doubts, causes one to questions one's own abilities and judgement, and, over time, dismantles, from within, the body.