Quotes by Hank Moody

Who says we have to be realistic?

Happy endings may get a bad rep, but they do happen. And when they do, they’re just as true as the unhappy ones.

Just because something is bleak doesn’t necessarily make it true.

I just threw up in my mouth a little. You had 20 centuries of halfway decent verse to choose from and you’re going with some minor Frosty?

How can you be so fucking beautiful and so fucking wrong?

If I can make you laugh like that, why can’t we be together? That’s what I don’t understand.

I miss your smell. When you left, I couldn’t wash the sheets because I didn’t want to lose that completely… You. And… it fucked me up for a long time because I would wake up and I’d smell you and I’d think you were there. And that would… My heart would break all over again. I think that’s why I go in for the kiss all the time. I know, yeah. I think I’m going for… another hit.

You know, as much as I love to hear about Bill’s failings as a parent, as a human being I do not like to be compared to him in the same sentence. It creeps me out.

There is no such thing as a 2 h orgasm or my lesser work. You’re shit out of luck.

She stole my guitar… and my records. My records! Oh, the humanity!

Life will kill you.

Wine is fine, but whiskey is quicker.

I love women. I have all their albums.

You know, it’s not fair to say “B.R.B” and then never actually B.R.B?

Look, I don’t want to take sides here, but I want to say, for the record, categorically, never.. never stick a finger up a grown man’s ass without warning. Don’t do it.

Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber. I mean, we have all this amazing technology, and yet… computers have turned into basically four-figure wank machines. The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but… But all it’s really given us is Howard Dean’s aborted candidacy and… 24-hour day acces to kiddy porn. People… They don’t write anymore. They blog. Instead of talking, they text… No punctuation, no grammar, L.O.L. this and L.M.F.A.O. that. It just seems to me that it’s just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a protolanguage that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King’s English.

Anything with half a cock and one ball is gonna get a rise out of these kids.

All right, so, at the end of the day, if you can do anything else… telemarketing, pharmaceutical sales, or ditch digging, major league umpire… I would suggest that you do that, because being a writer blows.

What am I talking about? What am I talking about? I don’t know half the fucking time what I’m talking about.

B to the I to the double L. What’s up, my nig nog? Well, you should have called. I wouldn’t have answered, but you could’ve left a message, which I would have quickly erased.

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