Quotes About Recklessness

You bloody fool, do you never stop to consider the consequences of your actions?" He barreled out of the mirror behind me. "Of course I do," I said coolly. "There's always plenty of time to consider the consequences. After I've screwed up.

You bloody fool, do you never stop to consider the consequences of your actions?" He barreled out of the mirror behind me. "Of course I do," I said coolly. "There's always plenty of time to consider the consequences. After I've screwed up.

But then I had unfolded too wildly, too recklessly, in the wrong place and at the wrong time and with the wrong person.

There is so much bias for self-love, so much recklessness about truth in general, and so much of even a sincere faithlessness of narration, that no partial account of anything is to be trusted.

The key to being a good thief, Sam always felt, was utter brazenness.

Japan is like a young woman who thinks too much of herself. She's bound to get herself into trouble.

Now then, thought I, unconsciously rolling up the sleeves of my frock, here goes for a cool, collected dive at death and destruction, and the devil fetch the hindmost.

cannibals—morally enfeebled also, by the incompetence of mere unaided virtue or right-mindedness in Starbuck, the invulnerable jollity of indifference and recklessness in Stubb, and the pervading mediocrity in Flask.

Oh for shame, how the mortals put the blame on us gods, for they say evils come from us, but it is they, rather, who by their own recklessness win sorrow beyond what is given...

O great shamelessness, we followed

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

You took too much man, too much, too much.

I never knew where I was going, but I ripped the tits off of everything that got in my way. By the time they figured me out, it was too late.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive.... And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.

The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station.

live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.

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.

He gave my hand a final shake. "Okay, Kemp," he said with a grin. "Thanks a lot – you came through like a champ." "Hell," I said, starting the engine. "We're all champs when we're drunk.

The car suddenly veered off the road and we came to a sliding halt in the gravel. I was hurled against the dashboard. My attorney was slumped over the wheel. "What's wrong?" I yelled. "We can't stop here. This is bat country!

There is nothing worse than a man in the throws of an ether bender.

The only way to prepare for a trip like this, I felt, was to dress up like human peacocks and get crazy, then screech off across the desert and cover the story.

There was also the socio-psychic factor. Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas. To relax, as it were, in the womb of the desert sun. Just roll the roof back and screw it on, grease the face with white tanning butter and move out with the music at top volume, and at least a pint of ether.

I've spent enough time in jackrabbit country to know that most of them lead pretty dull lives . . . No wonder some of them drift over the line into cheap thrills once in a while; there has to be a powerful adrenaline rush in crouching by the side of a road, waiting for the next set of headlights to come along, then streaking out of the bushes with split-second timing and making it across to the other side just inches in front of the speeding front wheels.

There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.