Quotes from Christopher Moore

Pain travels pretty well.

Oh, how the pillars of lust can crumble under the weight of stupidity.

couldn't be more Scottish if it was painted blue and smelled of burning peat and your ginger sister.

It was a machine-gun orgasm, dark chocolate, spring water in the desert, a hallelujah chorus and the cavelry coming to the rescue all at once.

You whoreson scalawag! said I. You flesh-turd dropped stinking from the poxy arsehole of a hare-lipped harlot!

Wiggly Charlie lived in a big house with his friends Audrey and Big Charlie. He liked mozzarella cheese sticks, chasing his tennis ball, and putting his purple wizard hat on his willy and pretending they were friends.

Minty Fresh made a motion with his hands of leveling, as if he were smoothing an imaginary tablecloth of calm over a counter constructed of contemporary freak-out.

Author's Notes] As I write this, September 2002, much about the humpback song is still unknown. (Although scientists do know that it tends to be found in the New Age music section, as well as in tropical waters...)

Mr. Asher, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." "No, ma'am, I'm going to have to insist that you pass away, this instant. You're overdue.

Charlie found himself affecting the Emperor's formal speech patterns, as if somehow he had been transported to a royal court where a nobleman was distinguished by the crumbs in his beard and the royal guard were not above licking their balls.

Go away. Your feet are misshapen and your eyebrows grow together in a threatening way.

What's a Mennonite?" Vance asked. "Amish with blenders.

It's kinda hard to get yourself into a good three-toweler when you got the dick of death.

Voilà!" said the artist, in perfect fucking French.

She had the kind of legs that kept her butt from resting on her shoes—a size-eight dame in a size-six dress and every mug in the joint was rooting for the two sizes to make a break for it as they watched her wiggle in the door and shimmy onto a barstool with her back to the door.

Why are you lying on the floor?" "Solidarity. And we ran out of cognac. This is my preferred out of cognac posture.

He was a LEPER, you idiot! Not a leopard.

No. Tommy turned and headed toward the door. As he reached it he turned and said, I'm not fucked. The Sartre reader looked up from his book and said, We all are. We all are.

This is fucking magic, she thought. This isn't some story out of one of Tommy's books. This isn't something you can experiment with in the bathroom. This is not natural, and whatever I am, it isn't natural. A vampire is magic, not science.

Love is not something you think about, it is a state in which you dwell.

Losers can only flourish until a dominant species appears

They are between. Not what they used to be, and not what they have become. In those times, they are nothing. And I am invisible, and I am nothing too. That is the true demimonde, Lucien, and the secret is, it is not always desperate and dark. Sometimes it is just nothing. No burden of potential or regret. There are worse things than being nothing, my friend.

Abençoados sejam os submissos, pois a eles diremos Lindos meninos.

Evolution doesn't really have a destination. It's just dicking around with possibilities.