The attacks of which I have been the object have broken the spring of life in me... People don't realize what it feels like to be constantly insulted.
On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks.
We looked at each other, and I could see in those big reddened eyes that he was not going to scream. He was full of anger - and who could blame him? - but he was no fool. He needed me, and he wanted me here, if only to insult me.
Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem.
We were told that they wished merely to pass through our country. . . to seek for gold in the far west . . . Yet before the ashes of the council are cold, the Great Father is building his forts among us. . . . His presence here is . . . an insult to the spirits of our ancestors. Are we then to give up their sacred graves to be allowed for corn?
I will not insult you by trying to tell you that one day you will forget. I know as well as you that you will not. But, at least, in time you will not remember as fiercely as you do now - and I pray that that time may be soon.
It seems an insult to nature and to the Creator to imagine that pregnancy was ever intended to be a sickness.
It's not fear of striking out that makes me reluctant to step up to the plate. It's the fear of getting hit in the head by a 90 mph fastball, the pitcher coming off of the mound to stomp me with her cleats while I am down, the rest of the opposing team rushing out of the dugout hurling insults as they kick me and spit on me, while all along the crowd in the stands is cheering them on and laughing at my failure. So, no, it's not the fear of striking out that keeps me from stepping up to the plate.
To say that Agatha Christie’s characters are cardboard cut-outs is an insult to cardboard cut-outs.
The poet’s life is just so much crenellated waste, nights and days whipping swiftly or laboriously past the cinematic window. We’re hunched and weaving over the keys of our green our grey or pink blue manual typewriter maybe a darker stone cold thoritative selectric with its orgasmic expectant hum and us popping pills and laughing over what you or I just wrote, wondering if that line means insult or sex. Or both. Usually both.
To say Congress is spending like drunken sailors is an insult to drunken sailors.
Wisdom eventually comes to all of us. Someday it might even be your turn.
Nothing in recent years, on television or anywhere else, has improved on a good story that begins "Once upon a time..."
Has it ever occurred to you that there might be a difference between having an open mind and having holes in one's head?
I can't take a well-tanned person seriously.
Are you stupid or did you just take lessons?
When you're as important as I am, getting your feelings hurt by me is almost an honor.
If people only knew how much I secretly hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.
I don't mind sharing the blame if she'll just admit she started it.
How can I be expected to love someone who tries such crude manipulations as bringing me breakfast in bed?
I'm not going to stop torturing myself till I figure out the cause of my pain.
Dahling, when God put teeth in your mouth, he ruined a perfectly good arsehole.
You take care and I hope I'll run into you - when I'm driving.
The pedestal is immobilizing and subtly insulting whether or not some women yet realize it. We must move up from the pedestal.
When a husband says, "I run things in my home" he may mean the washing machine, the dishwasher and the vacuum cleaner.
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