Quotes from Tom Robbins

Far out, Bobby wrote back. Next thing I know, you'll be knitting socks with "Whistler's Mother.

an electronic technology, cultural changes occur more rapidly than value systems can accommodate them, and in the resulting confusion technology itself becomes a surrogate religion. Christ, the core symbol of Western

and in the prison wall there's a hole so wide you could fit an hour's worth of corporate greed in it and have room left over for Dick Cheney's draft deferments. -Til Lunch Do Us Part

Pink is what red looks like when it kicks off its shoes and lets its hair down. Pink is the boudoir color, the cherubic color, the color of Heaven's gates. . . . Pink is as laid back as beige, but while beige is dull and bland, pink is laid back with attitude. -The Eight-Story Kiss

Space is merely a device to prevent everything from being in the same spot.

So, it was to the pay phone that she descended, bearing the coin of the realm.

Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature[...]Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing[...]and on Decatur Street, a mass-transit motor coach named Desire.

What limits people is lack of character. What limits people is that they don't have the fucking nerve or imagination to star in their own movie, let alone direct it.

private and primitive and a bit on the funky and frightening

I was seven or eight months old - a creeping, crawling carpet crab.

The fetus bailed out without a parachute.

I'd like to think that had I known the truth, I might have been a kinder, more loving person. If only we knew the Truth, mightn't we all?

We waste time looking for the perfect lover instead of creating the perfect love. Wouldn't that be the way to make love stay?

Ah, Gwendolyn, while it may be true that "everyday existence' is the tirl of dull, repetitive activities that you infer, it's just one layer of a many-layered cake; and if it seems an exercise in pointless mediocrity, maybe that's only because most who live it are too narrowly focused to perceive its underlying kaleidoscopic density.

I do, however, happen to possess a pretty good memory and can at a moments notice name the lineup of the 1947 Brooklyn Dodgers and all but one or two of my ex-wives.

The rusted-out VW bug is the national bird of Waitressland.

There's just one thing in this life that's better than happiness and that's freedom. It's more important to be free than to be happy.

SOUTH RICHMOND was a neighborhood of mouse holes, lace curtains, Sears catalogs, measles epidemics, baloney sandwiches—and men who knew more about the carburetor than they knew about the clitoris.

People used to die from germs. Now they died from bad habits.

The economic world, the world of the equities markets, just seemed like a perfect foil, the ideal backdrop against which to contrast this story about legendary amphibians from outer space, because everything these days is all about money. In this book (Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas) I'm hoping to illustrate that there not only are far more important things than money, but there are far more interesting things. (from NPR Interviews edited by Robert Siegel)

She had never paid much attention to the Middle Eastern situation, per se, and now she knew why. It was an overload of craziness. It was a seventy-piece orchestra rehearsing a funeral dirge and a wedding march simultaneously in a broom closet.

Actually, there are two kinds of people in this world: those who believe there are two kinds of people in this world and those who are smart enough to know better. However, Leigh-Cheri and Bernard were occupied with the nuances of an intricate dance, so let's be generous and cut them some slack.)

Forget Toni and Nancy, forget Gwendolyn Berryman. Bobbi was on another plane entirely, and I was not so much in love as in awe. It was, of course, unrequited, although she, generally deprived of playmates, seemed fond enough of my company.

She was even grateful at first for this backdoor entry into the New York art scene, although rather quickly she came to think of it as entering a peacock through its rectum.