Shitty Quotes (displaying: 1 - 10 of 30 quotes )
Somewhere, far, far away, there's a shitty island. An island without a name. An island not worth giving a name. A shitty island with a shitty shape. On this shitty island grow palm trees that also have shitty shapes. And the palm trees produce coconuts that give off a shitty smell. Shitty monkeys live in the trees, and they love to eat these shitty-smelling coconuts, after which they shit the world's foulest shit. The shit falls on the ground and builds up shitty mounds, making the shitty palm trees that grown on them even shittier. It's an endless cycle.
Eventually, I reached the other side of the chasm and understood the differences between the two men. I no longer hated Daddy: he had been a shitty father and a shitty husband - a man who's made two bad choices based on lust and coveting and then been too weak either to live with them or undo them. But he had not been a rapist.
I miss you more than Michael Bay missed the mark. When he made Pearl Harbor. I miss you more than that movie missed the point. And that's an awful lot, girl. And now, now you've gone away. And all I'm trying to say, is: Pearl Harbor sucked and I miss you. I need you like Ben Affleck needs acting school. He was terrible in that film. I need you like Cuba Gooding needed a bigger part. He's way better than Ben Affleck. And now, all I can think about is your smileand that shitty movie, too. Pearl Harbor sucked and I miss you. Why does Michael Bay get to keep on making movies? I guess Pearl Harbor suckedjust a little bit more than I miss you.
Why are you not smarter? It's only the rich who can't afford to be smart. They're compromised. They got locked years ago into privilege. They have to protect their belongings. No one is meaner than the rich. Trust me. But they have to follow the rules of their shitty civilised world. They declare war, they have honour, and they can't leave. But you two. We three. We're free.
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.