Quotes from Christopher Moore

Does a broken heart know from a different location?

Not the scream of a startled little girl, mind you, but a manly scream: the scream of a fellow who has caught his enormous dong in a revolving door while charging

Of course there are gay Betas: the Beta Male boyfriend is highly prized in the gay community because you can teach him how to dress yet you can remain relatively certain that he will never develop a fashion sense or be more fabulous than you.)

Take a moment to catch your breath and revel in your rhetorical mastery and achievement.

Don't ask me how he got here, or what he really is. I think we've all learned over the years that the sooner we accept the simple explanation for the unexplained, the better chance we have of surviving a crisis.

Do not be afraid Everyone before you has died You cannot stay Any more than a baby can stay forever in the womb Leave behind all you know All you love Leave behind pain and suffering This is what Death is. —The Book of Living and Dying (The Tibetan Book of the Dead)

Snake eyes! the croupier said.          Lizard dick! Coyote shouted back. This sent me to convulsions.

The night was crisp and the stars shone with a cold blue light like loneliness or infinity.

And that continued for quite a while until the adventurer admitted that it IS an accepted fact among monsters and giants of all stripes that Englishmen are delicious.

Hey, you ever feel like you might just be the construct of an unyielding, all-seeing bureaucracy beyond our perception that is molding humanity to its own will and pleasure?

Apologies, one loses perspective after spending a week in a brothel.

You see, my plan is working. For it is written that 'if the wise man always appears stupid, his failures do not disappoint, and his success gives pleasant surprise.

Raziel! Go forth into the land and lay waste unto two good-size Wal-Marts, slay until blood doth flow from all bargains and all the buildings are but rubble — and pick up a few Snickers bars for yourself.

there comes a point where you'll find something out, where you'll see something, or where something will suddenly come together, and you'll realize that you know something that no one else in the world knows yet. Just you. No one else. You realize that all the value you have is in that one thing, and you're only going to have it for a short time until you tell someone else, but for that time you are more alive than you'll ever be.

The entire town of Monte Rio consisted of a gas station and a tire-flattened raccoon.

You have to reward them when they do what you want. I tried punishing them when they misbehaved, but the hammer seemed to crush their spirit.

Tuck watched the sun bubble into the ocean. Columns of vertical cumulus clouds turned to cones of pink cotton candy, then as the sun became a red wafer on the horizon, they turned candy-apple red, with purple rays reaching out of them like searchlights. The water was neon over wet asphalt, blood-spattered gunmetal—colors from the cover of a detective novel where heroes drink hard and beauty is always treacherous.

Blue is beauty, not truth. "True blue" is a ruse, a rhyme; it's there, then it's not. Blue is a deeply sneaky color. Even deep blue is shallow. Blue is glory and power, a wave, a particle, a vibration, a resonance, a spirit, a passion, a memory, a vanity, a metaphor, a dream. Blue is a simile. Blue, she is like a woman.

My kingdom for a razor-blade cowcatcher and Cuisinart wheel covers to cut my path through this herd of ignorant peasant meat, she thought. Then: Whoa, I guess I really do need the meds.

I'm very insecure, actually, but I have found that if you roll up screaming like a madwoman, hair on fire, guns blazing, no one is going to mention the zit on your forehead." Which

pursuit of material gain is ultimately empty when measured against eternity;

Religion in Chinatown, as in most places, is based less on a cogent theology and more on a collection of random fears, superstitions, prejudices, forgotten customs, vestigial animism, and social control. Mrs. Ling, while a professed Buddhist of the Pure Land tradition, also kept waving cat charms, lucky coins, and put great faith in the good fortune of the color red...and was very much in favor of any tradition, superstition, or ritual that involved fireworks...

That's what I'm saying," said Charlie, who wasn't saying that at all.

No era tanto que las manecillas del tiempo se hubieran detenido allí, sino más bien como si se hubieran levantado, exasperadas, y el reloj hubiera exclamado: ¡Venga, coño! Yo me largo de aquí.