Quotes About Rebellion

My mother drove back to the intersection. Who are you dating? Don't ask, I said. I wasn't dating anyone. I was fornicating with Batman.

Grandma was wearing a blond Marilyn Monroe wig, a hot pink tank top, black Pilates pants, and black kitten heels. She looked like the senior version of an inflatable sex toy doll that needed more air.

At the other end of the room, Grandma had the lid up on Larry Lipinski. She was standing one foot on a folding chair, one foot on the edge of the casket, and she was taking pictures with a disposable camera.

Kiss those cuffs good-bye. Lula from Hard Eight By Janet Evonavich

The mother and daughter whose roles had reversed—Grandma gladly relinquishing parental responsibility, my mother grimly accepting the task, struggling to find a place for an old woman who'd suddenly become a strange hybrid of tolerant mother and rebellious daughter. My father, in the living room, not wanting any part of it.

Not only did you steal my truck, but you parked it illegally." "You park illegally all the time." "Only when it's official police business, and I have no other choice … or when it's raining.

Hunh," Lula said. "You sure got a stick up your ass. When did you get so play-by-the-book?" "I've always been play-by-the-book. You're the one who doesn't play by the book." "Well, I knew it was one of us.

I kind of like being a slut," Grandma said. "It beats the heck out of being an old lady.

was dressed in black jeans, black motorcycle boots, a black T-shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket.

that was her edge. her secret weapon. she didnt give a shit.

Now I wish she'd never broken any of her rules. I understood why she held to them so hard. Once you broke the first one, they all broke, one by one, like firecrackers exploding in your face in a parking lot on the Fourth of July.

like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.

It's their skins I'm peeling, she said. The skins of the insipid scribblers, which I graft to the page, creating monsters of meaninglessness.

Maybe she was the lucky one, I thought, a woman who had divested herself of both future and past. No dreams, no standards, a woman who smoked and drank and slept with men like Sergei, men who were spiritually what came up out of the sewers when it rained.

You can't shape me anymore. I am the uncontrolled element, the random act. I am forward movement in time. You think you can see me? Then tell me, who am I? You don't know.

It's their skins I'm peeling," she said. "The skins of the insipid scribblers, which I graft to the page, creating monsters of meaninglessness.

I was bad, I had done bad things, I had hurt people, and the worst of it was, I didn't want to stop. Blue

Now I wished she'd never broken any of her rules. I understood why she held to them so hard. Once you broke the first one, they all broke, one by one, like firecrackers exploding in your face in a parking lot on the Fourth of July.

When anybody could tell, nobody was ever going to give fucking peace a chance.

I don't feel like me unless I have my hair shaved. So even when I'm an old lady, I'm going to have it.

In America few people will trust you unless you are irreverent.

I also take pleasure in the so-called negative power in Grotjahn's work. That is, I love his paintings for what they are not. Unlike much art of the past decade, Grotjahn isn't simply working from a prescribed checklist of academically acceptable, curator-approved 'isms' and twists.

The compulsion to do the opposite of what you are told does not lend itself to many occupations outside the entertainment industry. Within the industry, it is unlikely that you will be very successful without it.

Whether I am on a stage, behind a guitar or in front of a camera, I get paid to misbehave. Fortunately, misbehaviour is something I have unlimited supply of.