“The man who was once starved may revenge himself upon the world not by stealing just once, or by stealing only what he needs, but by taking from the world an endless toll in payment of something irreplaceable, which is the lost faith.”
― Anaïs Nin
The thief, as will become apparent, was a special type of thief. This thief was an artist of theft. Other thieves merely stole everything that was not nailed down, but this thief stole the nails as well.”
― Terry Pratchett, Sourcery
ANGER MANAGEMENT: A SOUTH COAST FABLE
His screaming has commenced. The kids are home.
And you are bruised, walking-into-a-door bruised,
like you’ve seen enough before except
now it’s his, his bruise and possible fracture.
You saw the good man (if nobody else did)
the one who rolled you your White Ox,
the one who actually wrote songs,
the man you were loving who disguised
so much (no doubt from himself).
Well it all is out now with a sort of noise
that’s heading to your kid’s guts
to stay for decades. But it’s when
he starts up ‘Don’t you get it, I love kids,
I love them!’ you grab yours and lock away
the three of you, three hearts deranged
with thumping, with him outside the toilet
howling, whilst you phone your girl friends.
Men arrive, and now he screams at them:
the Bowlo band, the cover band, the busking partner
who then reaches for what you never thought
you’d reach with him: cops, their AVOs.
Oh, and you’re reasoning again,
he was never thick, some cops are truly thick
and sometimes we need what the thick provide.
Meantime he’ll be off,
a stocky, perspiring man, making noises no one wants
to understand, getting dragged away.
An idle brain is the devils workshop.
The Inquirer & Commercial News (Perth, WA : 1855 – 1901), Wednesday 8 October 1890
The World’s News (Sydney, NSW : 1901 – 1955), Saturday 23 August 1952,
“Stealing, of course, is a crime, and a very impolite thing to do. But like most impolite things, it is excusable under certain circumstances. Stealing is not excusable if, for instance, you are in a museum and you decide that a certain painting would look better in your house, and you simply grab the painting and take it there. But if you were very, very hungry, and you had no way of obtaining money, it would be excusable to grab the painting, take it to your house, and eat it.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Wide Window
Angimituiria na umirite ndangimiona rikii
He who seeks his goat with the man who ate it, is certain not to find it.
Do not look for stolen goods in the robber’s house
The question is frequently asked: Why does a man become a drug addict?
The answer is that he usually does not intend to become an addict. You don’t wake up one morning and decide to be a drug addict. It takes at least three months’ shooting twice a day to get any habit at all. And you don’t really know what junk sickness is until you have had several habits. It took me almost six months to get my first habit, and then the withdrawal symptoms were mild. I think it no exaggeration to say it takes about a year and several hundred injections to make an addict.
The questions, of course, could be asked: Why did you ever try narcotics? Why did you continue using it long enough to become an addict? You become a narcotics addict because you do not have strong motivations in the other direction. Junk wins by default. I tried it as a matter of curiosity. I drifted along taking shots when I could score. I ended up hooked. Most addicts I have talked to report a similar experience. They did not start using drugs for any reason they can remember. They just drifted along until they got hooked. If you have never been addicted, you can have no clear idea what it means to need junk with the addict’s special need. You don’t decide to be an addict. One morning you wake up sick and you’re an addict. (Junky, Prologue, p. xxxviii)”
William S. Burroughs, Junky
― William Shakespeare, Othello
When a man hurries, the devil smiles.
― Pablo Picsso
We don’t make eye contact anymore.
I ask; you’re FINE!
And all your venom is reserved for me,
it’s mine. Something I said?
If your demeanor was any meaner
I’d be pushing up daisies instead.
Call me crazy, but you never
baulk at talking until you I enter.
A text on my phone emotes more
than you stealing moments of silence
from my vacant stare. Are you still there?
What we have here…is a failure…
Of all men the drunkard is the foulest. The thief when he is not stealing is like another. The extortioner does not practice in the home. The murderer when he is at home can wash his hands. But the drunkard stinks and vomits in this own bed and dissolves his organs in alcohol.”
― Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls
― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me
“Time talks behind our back. To our face it’s friendly and logical, never hesitating to give more of itself. But when we’re not looking, it steals our lives and says bad things about us to the parts of us it’s stolen”
― Jonathan Carroll, A Child Across the Sky