Quotes About Rebellion

Hit him again, Jack! He's crazy!

These are bad times for people who like to sit outside the library at dawn on a rainy morning and get ripped to the tits on crank and powerful music.

Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final.

In a generation of swine, the one-eyed pig is king.

In a nation of frightened dullards there is a sorry shortage of outlaws, and those few who make the grade are always welcome:

To them the appearance of the Hell's Angels must have seemed like a wonderful publicity stunt. In a nation of frightened dullards there is a sorry shortage of outlaws, and those few who make the grade are always welcome: Frank Sinatra, Alexander King, Elizabeth Taylor, Raoul Duke... they have that extra "something".

I like this book and I especially like the title. Only a fool or a whore would call it anything else.

Don't take any guff from these swine.

When you're asked to stay out of a bar you don't just punch the owner--you come back with your army and tear the place down, destroy the whole edifice and everything it stands for. No compromise. If a man gets wise, mash his face. If a woman snubs you, rape her. This is the thinking, if not the reality, behind the whole Hell's Angels act.

Can I get to the bottle of Old Crow and mix it up with the remains of these ice fragments...a cool drink for the freak? Give the gentleman something cool, dear, can't you see he's wired his brain to the water pump and his ears to the generator...

There is a beautiful consistency about Buzzard; he is a porcupine among men, with his quills always flared. If he won a new car with a raffle ticket bought in his name by some momentary girlfriend, he would recognize it at once as a trick to con him out of a license fee. He would denounce the girl as a hired slut, beat up the raffle sponsor, and trade off the car for five hundred Seconals and a gold-handled cattle prod.

Turn up the radio. Turn up the tape machine. Look into the sunset up ahead. Roll the windows down for a better taste of the cool desert wind. Ah yes. This is what it's all about. Total control now. Tooling along the main drag on a Saturday night in Las Vegas, two good old boys in a fireapple-red convertible … stoned, ripped, twisted … Good People.

Every now and then you have to get away from that ugly Old Politics trip, or it will drive you to kicking the walls and hurling AR3's into the fireplace.

I'm not trying to send you out "on the road" in search of Valhalla, but merely pointing out that it is not necessary to accept the choices handed down to you by life as you know it. There is more to it than that — no one HAS to do something he doesn't want to do for the rest of his life.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body.

What sells, today, is whatever Fucks You Up - whatever short-circuits your brain and grounds it out for the longest possible time.

Don't worry, boys, we'll weather this storm of approval and come out as hated as ever - Saul Alinsky to his staff shortly before his death, June 1972.

Yeah, I guess I am," said one. "But you're looking at one loser who's going to make a hell of a scene on the way out.

Balls," I said. "Never mind the track. The track is for punks. We are Road People. We are Cafe Racers. Being shot out of a cannon will always be better than being squeezed out of a tube. On my tombstone they will carve, "IT NEVER GOT FAST ENOUGH FOR ME.

Tune in, freak out, get beaten. It's all in Kesey's Bible. … The Far Side of Reality. And

The Hell's Angels as a group are often willfully stupid, but they are not without savoir-faire, and their predilection for travelling in packs is a long way from being all showbiz. Nor is it entirely due to warps and defects in their collective personality.

I don't really care if people think we're bad," said another. "I think this is what really keeps us going. We fight society and society fights us. It doesn't bother me.

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard

Their only common ground is their disdain for the present, or the status quo.