Quotes About Disgust

[T]he progress of civilization corresponds with the spread of general nausea.

Politics when I am in it, makes me sick.

The dog is turned to his own vomit again.

found myself looking at a recipe for Chicken Cordon Bleu, a dish that had revolted me even when I ate it back in the seventies. The ingredients – oil, butter, cheese, cream, breadcrumbs – felt like signposts on the way to a heart attack.

I personally do not find puke funny. I find it disgusting.

It's overkill when you put too much fragrance on. It's the worst. Not sexy, and it makes me want to puke. I'm nauseous. Know what I mean? Your game's off.

When I am disgusted by certain American politicians, I fantasize moving away to Finland - a country in which I have worked a little, and which I see as a pure blue and green place of unpolluted lakes, peaceful forests, and pristine social-democratic values.

The pure unadulterated disgust of Washington seems to me to be a really good thing.

I don't like people's table manners. That really puts you off eating food.

By God!' Christopher exclaimed. 'I loathe your whole beastly buttered-toast, mutton-chopped, carpet-slippered, rum-negused comfort as much as I loathe your beastly Riviera-palaced, chauffeured, hydraulic-lifted, hot-house aired beastliness of fornication.…

wormfaced, crawling, sand-brained piece of lizard turd!

They were permitted their illusions. What a comfort. You could pretend your life was forever, that tomorrow would be better, that the gods in their heavens watched you with care. She recoiled from this lapse with disgust at herself. The unclouded eye was better, no matter what it saw.

Sometimes I'm overcome with such an aversion to human beings that I can barely refrain from retching.

His stomach turned inside out, like a glove, and he vomited. It wasn't disagreeable at all. Almost like a liberation, in fact. A kind of suicide, in a way. These particles of matter that showered from his mouth, after he had thought them consumed and digested, did not disgust him. No, he was completely indifferent to them; and to everything else, for that matter. It was only when he vomited that he could be indifferent even to life itself.

I pace up and down from one wall to the other talking to myself like a patient in a mental hospital. That naked body I catch sight of every time I pass the mirror makes me feel like throwing up. The grey flesh with its covering of black hairs somehow attracts me and disgusts me at the same time.

Other people aren't like me in the slightest, I find. I admit though I prefer to know they are happy, just to be on the safe side. If not, they can be dangerous. I don't like seeing their blood, not at all, nor their guts, all that disgusts me. And if anyone deserves pity, it's me. The others will have to manage by themselves. They weren't any worse off before I was born, and they won't be any better off after I'm dead.

Then you're not coming? You'd rather go to the pen? Okay! . . . You don't care if I turn you in? ... You don't care if I love you or not? . . . You don't care about my future? You don't care about anything, do you? . . ." No, he says. In a way you're right . . . But it's not just you ... I don't care about anyone else either . . . Christ, don't take it as an insult! ... I know you're a sweet kid . . . But I don't want to be loved anymore ... It disgusts me! . . .

Je moet eerst een diepe walging van de anderen krijgen voordat je zelf precies weet waartoe je in staat bent.

She couldn't imagine ever having sex with Kevin again. The very idea repulsed her.

all these intellectual complications make me sick, disgust me—all this philosophy that uncovers the beast in man, and then seeks to save him, excuse him

The man stands behind the man. The seated man thinks, For heaven's sake, stop standing behind me. You are driving me mad. It is February and it is impossible. Someone has thrown onion skins all over the stairwell. Now I will have to clean them up - though I love to sweep. But still, it is disgusting. But all he says is I have to go soon. Why can't people tell the truth? It is impossible not to lie. It is February and not lying is impossible.

slowly he came to be filled with a great disgust for the life he had led before – a life of profligacy and poverty, in which he had wasted his mind and body in pointless pursuits, squandering his essences, bodily and spiritual, in fanciful imaginings. He longed to leave that life behind him but was again confounded by that hateful query: how?

He thoroughly abhorred those bohemians who aped the ways of Paris and Hollywood, and he had nothing but disgust for all those cynical, uprooted intellectuals who knew only how to pour scorn and sarcasm on everything, together with their scribbles about modern art, which amounted to no more than the emperor's new clothes.

He wrote more or less the same way as he dreamed or masturbated: a mixture of compulsion, enthusiasm, despair, disgust, and wretchedness. And in those days he also had an insatiable curiosity to try to understand why people hurt each other, and themselves, without meaning to at all.