Quotes from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“Hmmmm...There certainly are a lot of pretty boys in this world.”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“Boys get to do what they want in this world, and girls do not.”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“It went on like that till some guys got together and came up with the one-god thing—him being God, the Father, and male and all that—and things went downhill for girls ever after that, far as I can figure. It was always, 'Get in your dress, girl, your smock, your shift or your burnoose or your veil, but whatever it is, girl, put it on and shut the hell up,' is how I see it.”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“I know, Ezra, that I tend to be a bit impulsive at times, but it all seems so reasonable at the time I do these things, and so unreasonable when everyone looks back at what happened and what I did”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“the many hours Amy and I spent there, she sitting on the bank reading from a book of poems or some dreary political stuff, me with my skirt off and my drawers rolled up, wading in the water. Me turning over stones to see what was under them, she begging me not to eat what I found. The scavenging orphan in me does die hard, I must admit, and I know that sometimes I am a scandal to other, more well-bred people—in this and other ways. “All”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“I do consider myself to be a good girl, but I do seem to lose my clothing quite often in certain highly charged circumstances. “So”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“Morning Star log, Nov. 24. Ain’t got nothing good to say. Seas still high. Black clouds out there and black clouds in my mind. To hell with this. To hell with everything.”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

“I know, Ezra, that I tend to be a bit impulsive at times, but it all seems so reasonable at the time I do these things, and so unreasonable when everyone looks back at what happened and what I did.” “Well,”
― L.A. Meyer, quote from In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

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“Tam między gałązkami coś tkwiło — coś sterczało odrębnego i obcego, choć niewyraźnego… i temu przyglądał się też mój kompan.
— Wróbel.
— Acha.
Był to wróbel. Wróbel wisiał na drucie. Powieszony. Z przechylonym łebkiem i rozwartym dzióbkiem. Wisiał na kawałku cienkiego drutu, zahaczonego o gałąź.
Szczególne. Powieszony ptak. Powieszony wróbel. Ta ekscentryczność krzyczała tutaj wielkim głosem i wskazywała na rękę ludzką, która wdarła się w gąszcz — ale kto? Kto powiesił, po co, jaki mógł być powód?… myślałem w gmatwaninie, w tym rozrośnięciu obfitującym w milion kombinacji, a trzęsąca jazda koleją, noc hucząca pociągiem, niewyspanie, powietrze, słońce, marsz tutaj z tym Fuksem i Jasia, matka, chryja z listem, moje „zamrażanie” starego, Roman, zresztą i kłopoty Fuksa z szefem w biurze (o których opowiadał), koleiny, grudy, obcasy, nogawki, kamyczki, liście, wszystko w ogóle przypadło naraz do tego wróbla, jak tłum na kolanach, a on zakrólował, ekscentryk… i królował w
tym zakątku.
— Kto by go mógł powiesić?
— Jakiś dzieciak.
— Nie. Za wysoko.
— Chodźmy.
Ale nie ruszał się. Wróbel wisiał. Ziemia była goła, ale miejscami nachodziła ją trawa krótka, rzadka, walało się tu sporo rzeczy, kawałek zgiętej blachy, patyk, drugi patyk,
tektura podarta, patyczek, był też żuk, mrówka, druga mrówka, robak nieznany, szczapa i tak dalej i dalej, aż ku zaroślom u korzeni krzaków — on przyglądał się temu, podobnie jak ja.
— Chodźmy. Ale jeszcze stał, patrzył, wróbel wisiał, ja stałem, patrzyłem. —
Chodźmy. — Chodźmy. Nie ruszaliśmy się jednak, może dlatego, że już za długo tu
staliśmy i upłynął moment stosowny do odejścia… a teraz to stawało się już cięższe, bardziej nieporęczne… my z tym wróblem, powieszonym w krzakach… i zamajaczyło mi się coś w rodzaju naruszenia proporcji, czy nietaktu, niestosowności z naszej strony…
byłem śpiący.
— No, w drogę! — powiedziałem i odeszliśmy… pozostawiając w krzakach wróbla, samego.”
― Witold Gombrowicz, quote from Cosmos

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