Quotes About Provocation

A book is a loaded gun.

Monday burn Millay, Wednesday Whitman, Friday Faulkner, burn 'em to ashes, then burn the ashes. That's our official slogan.

I'll tell you, said Beatty, smiling at his cards. That made you for a little while a drunkard. Read a few lines and off you go over the cliff. Bang, you're ready to blow up the world, chop off heads, knock down women and children, destroy authority. I know. I've been through it all.

Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book.

He slapped her face with amazing objectivity and repeated the question.

Let me alone," said Mildred. "I didn't do anything." "Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?

A book is a loaded gun in the house next door.

Es verdad que, hace mucho tiempo, los bomberos apagaban incendios, en vez de provocarlos - No. Las casas han sido siempre a prueba de incendios. Puedes creerme. Te lo digo yo. - ¡Es extraño! Una vez, oí decir que hace muchísimo tiempo las casas se quemaban por accidente y hacían falta bomberos para apagar las llamas.

We need to be really bothered once in a while.

What could he say in a single word, a few words, that would sear all their faces and wake them up?

Why," swore Yossarian at him approvingly, "you evil-eyed, mechanicallyaptituded, disaffiliated son of a bitch, did you walk around with anything in your cheeks?

swatting at the bees only makes them angrier.

I aim to misbehave.

That all you got...Bub?

I could EAT YOUR HEART & asshole you'd never know it.

Yet there was something gratifyingly real about being called a bitch, a whore, a blond tramp. Where so much was a dreamy haze, anything promising to be real was bracing.

And that smell of masculine indignation, rage like something singed.

Moving your asshole-mouth & YES SIR I am saying NO MA'AM I am saying.

God help me if I ever injure my back, Clayton quipped. God help you if you ever turn it, Whitney snapped, for there'll surely be some heartbroken papa or cuckolded husband ready with a knife--if I don't murder you first.

You're an asshole, you know that? Stick your finger up your butt and take a whiff. That's you. A piece of shit!

There is something about all beards that is like the gesture of thumbing the nose. Thank you very much. Up yours.

Gabriel flashed him the one-fingered Mudra of Contempt.

I am demonstrating to you how tasty I think words are. I'm having sex with words in front of you. I'm playing around with them. I'm getting off. I'm trying to titillate you. There's this magical substance, language, that I'm laying out for you. Then you're going to fondle it.

Yes to fingerfucking the dialectic! Or to using the dialectic as a method of fingerfucking the binary!