Quotes About Gutter

When elites see a homeless person in the gutter, they assume he's saving a parking place.

What's that noise?" she asked. Jeb pointed to a gutter hanging off the roofline. "I'm just now getting to it," he

You were wrong," she told Paul, because he had been a pedantic asshole who thought he was right about everything. "You said I would be dead in a gutter by now. You said I was worthless. You said that no one would believe me because I didn't matter.

Your name like two X's like punched-in eyes, like a drunk cartoon passed out in the gutter, your name with two X's to mark the spots, to hold the place, to keep the treasure from becoming ever lost.

The [bowling] ball flew out jerkily, sailed about four feet, hit the lane with a loud crack , and then promptly entered the gutter. Roman walked up beside me, and we silently watched the ball complete its journey. 'Are you always that rough with balls?' he asked finally. 'Most men don't complain.

The logic of nationalism always flows downhill, toward the gutter.

Whenever I give a talk about my work I am invariably asked who my influences are. Not what my influences are, but who. As if the gutter, misunderstandings, memories, sex, dreams, and books matter less than forebears do. After all, in terms of influences, it is as much the guy who mugged me on 10th Street, or my beloved dog who passed away much too early, as it was Giotto or Diane Arbus.

Like a black shadow a priest stole across the square. Above him the cross on the church glowed like a live cinder, flashing its reflection along the purple-slated roof from the eaves of which a cloud of ash-gray pigeons drifted into the gutter below.

I felt like a lonely cat, an aging tom ridden by obscure rage, looking for torn-ear trouble. I clipped that pitch off short and threw it away. Night streets were my territory, and would be till I rolled in the last gutter.

The young real estate agent in the driver's seat lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow in my direction as she steered her Geo smoothly into the street gutter. I could not blame her for avoiding the crumbling driveway, whose variously

There is at least one field like gutter only and no good & sensible person ever enters in to clean and none comes out of it spotless.

My first car was a Buick Skyhawk from, like, '78, I think. I ran that thing into the gutter. It was shaped like an egg; it was cool.

My complexion, we too gutter: light-skinned women are more sensitive.

I tossed my shoulders and swaggered away, whistling with pleasure. In the gutter I saw a long cigaret butt. I picked it up without shame, lit it as I stood with one foot in the gutter, puffed it and exhaled toward the stars. I was an American, and goddamn proud of it.

The Parisian attitude toward sorcery-that its public practice was little more interesting and certainly more gauche than sex in the doorways or pissing in the gutter-was refreshing.

The gutter is Bertie Ahern's natural habitat.

Oh, it's a fine life, the life of the gutter. It's real: it's warm: it's violent: you can feel it through the thickest skin: you can taste it and smell it without any training or any work. Not like Science and Literature and Classical Music and Philosophy and Art.

My dears, as long as a man is a minister, adore him; when he falls, help drag him in the gutter.

He had been drunk over in town, and laid in the gutter all night, and he was a sight to look at. A body would a thought he was Adam, he was just all mud.

The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years–if it ever did end–began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.

Gleefully aggressive, Trump looks for opportunities to take offense and then wrestle a supposed enemy into the gutter.

I'm a moron because I don't want to lie in a gutter puking over myself... yeah right

He talks pretty big for a gutter wizard, he muttered. You don't understand at all, said the wizard wearily. I'm so scared of you my spine has turned to jelly, it's just that I'm suffering from an overdose of terror right now. I mean, when I've got over that then I'll have time to be decently frightened of you.

Sometimes the people who've owned the books in this shop leave little clues between the pages, and not just love notes or pressed flowers. You might come upon an unused Amtrak ticket tucked between the pages of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes or a sprinkling of crumbs along the gutter inside The Complete Engravings, Etchings, and Drypoints of Albrecht Dürer. Makes you wonder what kind of person noshes on a salami sandwich over The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.