Garth Ennis · 336 pages
Rating: (56.5K votes)
“I thought you an' I'd already settled the roles in the fucker/fuckee relationship! I guess I thought wrong!”
― Garth Ennis, quote from Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas
“Criminal: You can suck my dick, motherfucker!
Detective Bridges: You suck mine! [shoves barrel of pistol in the Criminal's mouth] An' you get used to it, cause you get to Rykers you're gonna find a lot of dick on the goddamn menu! Now grunt twice for yes! You through bitchin'?”
― Garth Ennis, quote from Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas
“Sheriff Root: "Ask Me, I reckon it was niggers"
Deputy: "How you reckon that, Sheriff Root?"
Sheriff Root: "Kinda thing they do"
Deputy: "What, burn two hundred people to death, right down to the bone? They do that?"
Sheriff Root: "MARTIAN niggers”
― Garth Ennis, quote from Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas
“If the Devil created Texas like some folks say he did, this is where he rested on the seventh day.”
― Garth Ennis, quote from Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas
“Christ, I think I'd grow old if I lost you.”
― Garth Ennis, quote from Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas
Garth Ennis
Born place: in Holywood, Ireland
Born date January 16, 1970
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“Antonio José Bolívar se ocupaba de mantenerlos a raya, en tanto los colonos destrozaban la selva construyendo la obra maestra del hombre civilizando: el desierto.”
― Luis Sepúlveda, quote from The Old Man Who Read Love Stories
“Zo shook her head. It wasn’t going to happen like this, she wanted to say, it didn’t get to end this way. He didn’t get to win.”
― Joe Schreiber, quote from Red Harvest
“Holse wasn’t about to get involved in any theological arguments. He looked serious and nodded, hoping this would do.”
― Iain M. Banks, quote from Matter
“I have no aspiration here to reclaim mystery and paradox from whatever territory they might inhabit, for there is, indeed, often a killing in a kiss, a mercy in the slap that heats your face . . . There is, nevertheless, a particular poverty in those alloplasts who, addressing tragedy, seek to subdistinguish motives beyond those we have best, because nearest, at hand, and so it is with love and hate--emotions upon whose necks, whether wrung or wreathed, may be found the oldest fingerprints of man. A simple truth intrudes: the basic instincts of every man to every man are known. But who knows when or where or how? For the answers to such questions, summon Augurello, your personal jurisconsult and theological wiseacre, to teach you about primal reality and then to dispel those complexities and cabals you crouch behind in this sad, psychiatric century you call your own. It is the anti-labyrinths of the world that scare. Here is a story for you. Your chair.”
― Alexander Theroux, quote from Darconville’s Cat
“And how easy it was to leave this life, after all - this life that could feel so present and permanent that departing from it must seem to require a tear into a different dimension. There the bunch of them were, young hopefuls, decorating their annually purged dorm rooms with postcards and prints and favorite photographs of friends, filling them with hot pots and dried flowers, throw rugs and stereos. Houseplants, a lamp, maybe some furniture brought up by encouraging parents. They nested there like miniature grownups. As if this provisional student life - with its brushfire friendships and drink-addled intimacies, its gorging on knowledge and blind sexual indulgences - could possibly last. As if it were a home, of any kind at all: someplace to gather one's sense of self. Flannery had never felt for a minute that these months of shared living took place on anything other than quicksand, and it had given this whole year (these scant seven or eight months, into which an aging decade or so had been condensed) a sliding, wavery feel. She came from earthquake country and knew the dangers of building on landfill. That was, it seemed to Flannery, the best description of this willed group project of freshman year: construction on landfill. A collective confusion of impressions and tendencies, mostly castoffs with a few keepers. What was there to count on in any of it? What structure would remain, founded on that?”
― Sylvia Brownrigg, quote from Pages for You
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