Humorous Quotes from
Wild Ducks Flying Backward
By Tom Robbins
- In downtown Seattle, for some reason, most of the excess buildings are beige. Seattleites complain of beige a vu: the sensation that they’ve seen that color before.
- If something is so hazardous and destructive and ugly and spooky that we don’t know what to do with it, we stick it in Nevada.
- Much of it is nutty and most of it is crude (the Nevada state song is the exaggerated belch)...
- For two blustery days, we holed up in the hotel, chasing fruit around the cylinder of a slot machine.
- (Of the Okavango) The water is pure enough to drink, warm enough to bathe in, although if you splash for more than ten minutes, a drooling crocodile will usually show up and demand a wine list.
- It knows that it looks as if it were carved out of bubblegum, as if it mutated from a radioactive conch patch, as if it leaked from the vat where old flamingos go to dye – but the Don CeSar (Hotel in Miami) doesn’t care.
- In the Selous (in Tanzania), one doesn’t catch a safari bus to the corner of Zebra and Watusi. To see the Selous, one hikes and one paddles. And when an aggravated hippopotamus is charging one’s rubber raft, one paddles very hard, indeed.
- Perhaps they (family and friends) sensed that after my recent dealings with editors, agents, lawyers, producers, and reviewers, I might be primed for the company of crocodiles.
- From the port city of Dar es Salaam, we have traveled into the interior on a toy railroad: one locomotive, one car, and narrow-gauge track, all three built by the Chinese. It was definitely not a main line. It was a chow mein line.
- Our first day in the bush finds us up at dawn. Having only seen dawn from the other side of the clock, I never imagined daybreak might actually be pleasant.
- The refreshment we’re served is Rufiji punch: raspberry Kool-Aid made with river water that has been purified via medicine kit. The water is eighty degrees, buzzing with silt, stinking of iodine, and no doubt heavily laced with crocodile drool and hippo pee. We welcome it as if it were French champagne.
- Characteristically, hippopotamuses make a noise that is a cross between scales being run on out-of-tune bassoon and the chortling of a mad Roman emperor.
- The Doors. The musical equivalent of a ritual sacrifice, an amplified sex throb, a wounded yet somehow elegant yowl for the lost soul of America, histrionic tricksters making hard cider from the apples of Eden while petting the head of the snake.
- They (The Doors) even tune up with an involvement so fierce it would scare The Mamas & The Papas out of their mama pants and papa pants.
- Jim Morrison, vocals. Morrison begins where Mick Jagger and Eric Burdon leave off. An electrifying combination of an angel in grace and a dog in heat.
- Whether she (Karen Duffy) is spinning Aerosmith’s propeller or tossing MC Hammer his tacks, she introduces the optic sizzle, the hip-hop histrionics, as if she were Little Red Riding Hood showing off her pet wolves.
- He (Joseph Campbell) could appear haughty at times, but at his age and with his knowledge and accomplishments, he may be excused for not suffering fools gladly.
- Despite his appointment in contemporary humanity, however, Campbell maintained an enormous, contagious enthusiasm for what he called “the rapture of being alive.”
- As society staggers toward the millennium, flailing and screeching all the while, like an orangutan with a steak knife in its side...
- The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blondes who’ve spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown haired men who’ve been composted out behind the barn. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junkyard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies.
- Nothing frightens the state – or its partner in crime, organized religion – so much as the prospect of an informed population thinking for itself and living free.
- If hallucinogens are operating as exopheromones, then the dynamic symbiotic relationship between primate and hallucinogenic plant is actually a transfer of information from one species to another. ~ Terence McKenna
- The difference between us and Helen Keller is that she knew she was deaf and blind.
- The first time I met Debra Winger, we spontaneously ducked out of a boring Tinseltown business meeting to take refuge in a dimly lit Santa Monica dive, where we caused the bartender to develop repetitive-motion disorder from the incessant refilling of our tequila glasses.
- “It’s not fair,” I begin. “How could a wise and loving God load up this vegetable juice with thousands of vitamins and not put a single one in tequila?”
Rising, as usual, to the occasion, (Debra) Winger flashes me that ol’hellcat grin and says, “Oh, you can get nourishment from tequila, Tommy. But you have to eat the worm.
- He (Freddie Manhattan) has an asteroid talent but a supernova ego.
- There’s often a thin line between the comic and the cosmic.
- It was a Spanish poet, Juan Ramon Jimenez, who advised, “If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”
- The best thing I ever put in my mouth - no, let me rephrase that - the best food item I ever put in my mouth was the ...
- It’s become a national taboo to allow tomatoes to ripen in the fields, and when you see a sign in your supermarket advertising “vine ripe tomatoes,” you know you're looking at a lie so blatant it would make the Pentagon blush.
- The Japanese have become so smitten with the Western condiment – its texture as silky as a kimono, its tang as understated as the tang of Zen - that today they have a word for mayonnaise junkie: mayora.
- There’s a hole so wide you could fit an hour’s worth of corporate greed in it and have room left over for all of Dick Cheney’s draft deferments.
- Politics, in other words, is an organized, publicly sanctioned amplification of the infantile itch to always have one’s own way.
- America is a nation of 270 million people: 100 million of them are gangsters, another 100 million are hustlers, 50 million are complete lunatics, and every single one of us is secretly in show business. Isn’t that fabulous?
- According to Fellini, “The visionary is the only true realist.” Before we dismiss that declaration as the ravings of a . . . well, a visionary...
- Our purpose is to consciously, deliberately evolve toward a wiser, more liberated and luminous state of being; to return to Eden, make friends with the snake, and set up our computers among the wild apple trees.
- Our mission is to jettison those pointless preoccupations and take on once again the primordial cargo of inexhaustible ecstasy. Or, barring that, to turn out a good thin-crust pizza and a strong glass of beer.
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