Quotes About Rebellion

In a town full of bedrock crazies, nobody even notices an acid freak.

The difference between the student radicals and the Hell's Angels is that the students are rebelling against the past, while the Angels are fighting the future

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. —John Milton, Paradise Lost

In a world increasingly geared to specialists, technicians and fantastically complicated machinery, the Hell's Angels are obvious losers and it bugs them. But instead of submitting quietly to their collective fate, they have made it the basis of a full-time social vendetta. They don't expect to win anything, but on the other hand, they have nothing to lose.

Right," I said. "But first we need the car. And after that, the cocaine. And then the tape recorder, for special music, and some Acapulco shirts.

With apologies to Austin Ruse and the National Review, it's passages like this, not any endorsement of the drug-fueled, last-minute allnighter, that explain why Hunter Thompson will always be celebrated by young people. It had nothing to do with drugs, the F word, or being cool, and everything to do with the fact that Thompson never lost his sense of appropriate outrage, never fell into the trap of accepting that moral compromise was somehow a sign of growth and adulthood. Both

We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers … and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls.

The trick is to control them without any provocation, but outlaws are very easily provoked.

It just more or less burns em, that's all. They hate anything that's not right for their way of living.

Hunter S. Thompson

No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride … and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well … maybe chalk it off to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten. It's all in Kesey's Bible.… The Far Side of Reality.

A natural street freak, just eating whatever came by.

Too weird to live, too rare to die.

For reasons that were never made clear, I blew out my back windows with five blasts of a 12-gauge shotgun, followed moments later by six rounds from a .44 Magnum. It was a prolonged outburst of heavy firing, drunken laughter and crashing glass. Yet the neighbors reacted with total silence.

Fuck it, I said. I'm reading the Funnies.

Leave me out of it I said, I came here to drink

If I followed my better instincts right now, I would put this typewriter in the Volvo and drive to the home of the nearest politician -- any politician -- and hurl the goddamn machine through his front window ... flush the bugger out with an act of lunatic violence then soak him down with mace and run him naked down Main Street in Aspen with a bell around his neck and black lumps all over his body from the jolts of a high powered Ball Buster cattle prod.

Maybe he's up to something, maybe he'Å› not really crazy after all. Perhaps he just got fed up acting normal and decided to act crazy instead, and they locked him up because he went too far.

Perhaps he just got fed up acting normal and decided to act crazy instead, and they locked him up because he went too far.

I suppose it has gone out of fashion and they are out spraying slogans on walls, sniffing glue or trying to get laid.

but the death of somebody close gives you a good excuse to go a bit crazy for a while and do things that would otherwise be inexcusable. What delight to behave really badly and still get loads of sympathy!

Sir, did you not hear the orders of the King? Bailly replied: ...It seems o me that the nation assembled cannot take orders.

Everyone knew the urge to run from the world; few dared do it.

She thought of Robbie at dinner when there had been something manic and glazed in his look. Might he be smoking the reefers she had read about in a magazine, these cigarettes that drove young men of bohemian inclination across the borders of insanity?