Quotes from Irvine Welsh

People come to this place for one reason, and one reason only. However, the night is still relatively young, and the camouflage of drinking, talking and listening to music does not, at this point, seem too obvious.

How many shots does it take before the concept ay choice becomes obsolete?

Awareness is seventy percent of the solution.

Politics shouldn't be what it has exclusively become: a pastime for bored, rich, narcissistic sociopaths, useless for any other kind of employment and hardwired only to syphon off the resources of a community into the pockets of their elite sponsors.

There's some kids playing out in the back, the strip of grass luminated an electric green by the brilliant sunlight. The sky is a delicious clear blue. Life is beautiful. I'm going to enjoy it, and I'm going to have a long life.

Can barely look in the mirror. I've been way too uncomfortable to try and shave and I've grown a thin, scraggy ginger beard which looks redder and thicker than it is, cause of the spots on my face. The yellowheads are repulsive enough, but it's two big boil-like fuckers on my cheek and forehead that cause the distress. They throb under the surface of my skin like a Peter Hook bassline, hurting my face every time I try to move it.

You n me. Ah jist think we should split up. A pause. — Ah want tae split. For us tae stoap guan oot thegither. — But why... She actually touches her chest, touches her heart, and at that moment mine nearly breaks in unison.

Mâine dimineaÈ›-o s?-mi par? r?u, da', cum ar zice Sick Boy, dimineaÈ›a-È™i poart? singur? de grij?.

Es más fácil querer a alguna gente a distancia.

Franco's voice is something tae hear, it's like wi it bein Hogmanay, he's absorbed just the right amount ay alcohol n good vibes and they intersect at this wonderous vector as he briefly becomes something else, this force ay grace and soul.

We were slowly, but irrevocably, coming apart.

Whoa it's still coming and I'm thinking now is the time to fall in love now now now but not with the world with that one special her, just do it, just do it now, just change your whole fuckin life in the space of a heartbeat, do it now… but nah… this is just entertainment…

You're nothing but a work-in-progress until that day you fall out of this world into the land ay dead men's trousers.

IF YOU FEEL HIGH OR LOW, MIND THAT NOTHING GOOD OR BAD LASTS FOREVER AND TODAY'S THE START OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

He really is a cunt ay the first order. Nae doubt about that. The big problem is, he's a mate n aw. Whit kin ye dae?

The vandalism time perpetuates on the human body.

Il dolore è una cosa da concentrarcisi sopra.

I prefer Tender Is the Night, though', and as I spoke, I got a raw jolt in my chest that could only br described as tender, as an image of Fiona, on the Bosphorus ferry, under a lambent soak of light, sweeping her hair out of her face, flickered in my brain. Even wasted she looked so poised and dignified. I loved her I loved her I loved her I wanted to melt into her bones. Her absence now felt like I'd been eaten from the inside.

Pero tener buen corazón solo sirve para que algunos quieran clavarte un cuchillo en él. Lo consideran un objetivo, como si fuera la diana de los dardos. Dicen: "Vamos a por ese buen corazón.

She could find no emotional connection though, between the her of now and the her of then

Sitting in the brightly lit library, surrounded by books, in total silence, that was ma personal zenith.

It's amazing how seedy scumbags (the press) can write shite, and demented retards (the public) suddenly go up in arms and then opportunistic slime (the politicians) jump right on the bandwagon. Such is British life. So now there is to be a 'comprehensive review of the facility'.

Lo he dejado varias veces. Dejarlo y volver a picarse es como ir a la cárcel. Cada vez que vas a la cárcel, disminuye la probabilidad de que alguna vez estés libre de ese tipo de vida. Es igual cada vez que vuelves al caballo. Disminuyes tus posibilidades de ser capaz de prescindir de él algún día.

Some auld cunt, they're always oan the buses at this time, is fartin and shitein at the driver; firing a volley ay irrelevant questions about bus numbers, routes and times. Get the fuck oan or fuck off and die ya foostie auld cunt. Ah almost choked in silent rage at her selfish pettiness and the bus driver's pathetic indulgence of the cunt. People talk aboot youngsters and vandalism, what aboot the psychic vandalism caused by these auld bastards?