Irvine Welsh cytaty

strona 2

„Jestem zbyt chory, by spać, i zbyt zmęczony, by trwać na jawie.”

„Gdy jedne drzwi się zamykają, inne się otwierają.”

„Dlaczego odrzucam świat i widzę siebie jako coś lepszego? No bo tak, to wszystko. Bo jestem kurwa lepszy i taka jest prawda.”

„Szkoda, że czekałem tak długo, żeby zostać człowiekiem.”

„Otchłań melancholii nie ma dna, a ja pogrążam się coraz bardziej, spadam w przepaść i lata świetlne dzielą mnie od starych, dobrych czasów.”

„Jesteśmy tylko zaćpanymi kutasami w otoczeniu, którego nie widzimy w mieście, którym rzygamy udając, że znajdujemy się w centrum wszechświata, wyniszczając się gównianymi prochami, by zagłuszyć poczucie, że prawdziwe życie jest gdzie indziej, świadomi, że choć napędzamy naszą paranoję i rozczarowanie, to jesteśmy zbyt apatyczni, by przestać. Bo, co smutne, nie ma żadnego ciekawego powodu by przestać.”

„Ciężko jest mieć zasady w dzisiejszych czasach.”

„Próby rzucenia fajek w jego towarzystwie to jak odstawienie dragów na skłocie pełnym ćpunów.”

„Zasadniczo, jedyne, czego wymaga od życia, to aby każda pizda zajmowała się sobą, tak jak ja.”

„Społeczeństwo wymyśla przewrotny ersatz logiki, żeby wchłonąć i zmienić ludzi, których zachowanie odbiega od normy.”

“I dinnae Tam, ah jist dinnae. Life's boring and futile. We start oaf wi high hopes, then we bottle it. We realize that we're aw gaunnae die, withoot really findin oot the big answers. We develop aw they long-winded ideas which jist interpret the reality ay oor lives in different weys, withoot really extending oor body ay worthwhile knowledge, about the big things, the real things. Basically, we live a short, disappointing life; and then we die. We fill oor lives up wi shite, shite like joabs n relationships, tae delude ourselves intae thinkin that it isnae aw totally pointless. Smack's an honest drug, because it strips away these delusions. It's the only really honest drug. It disnae alter yir consciousness. It jist gies ye a hit and a sense ay well-being. After that, ye see the misery ay the world as it is, and ye cannae anesthaetise yirsel against it.”

“That's all very well as an abstract moral principle, Avril, a coffee-table theoretical construct, but there's no denying the sheer gratuitous pleasure to be derived from seeing members of the ruling class in pain and torment.”

“Ah suppose man, ah'm too much ay a perfectionist, ken? It's likesay, if things go a bit dodgy, ah jist cannae be bothered, y'know?”

“Ah've never felt anything about countries, other than total disgust. They should fuckin abolish the lot of them. Kill every fuckin parasite politician that ever mouthed lies and fascist platitudes in a shell-suit and a smarmy smile.”

“You can't just have stuff that is free and escapist, you have to have stuff that is confrontational as well. You need stuff that is mystical but you need the realism too.”

“He had noted that with older people. They often try to control younger, more popular and vivacious people; usually due to the fact that they are jealous of the qualities the younger people have and they lack. These inadequacies are disguised with a benign, protective attitude.”

“The duty sergeant was going through his routine of asking each brawling set of prisoners who the Billy and who the Tim was. If the handshake is right he will let the Billy go and slap the Tim around a bit. That way everybody's happy. The Billy gets to feel superior and delude himself that being a non-churchgoing 'protestant' is somehow important; the Tim gets to feel persecuted and indulge his paranoia about masonic conspiracies; the sergeant gets to slap the Tim around.”

“The only people that ever made a difference to Billy were the Provos, and they were cunts as well. Ah've no illusions aboot them as freedom fighters. The bastards made ma brar intae a pile ay cat food. But they jist pulled the switch. His death was concieved of by these Orange cunts, comin through every July with thir sashes and flutes, fillin Billy's stupid head with nonsense aboot crown and country and aw that garbage. They'll go home chuffed fae the day. They kin tell aw thir mates aboot how one ay the family died, murdered by the IRA, while defending Ulster. It'll fuel thir pointless anger, get them bought drinks in pubs, and help establish their doss-bastard credibility wi other sectarian arseholes.”

“Ah cannae feel any remorse, only anger and contempt. Ah seethed when ah saw that fuckin Union Jack oan his coffin, and that smarmy, wimpy cunt ay an officer, obviously oot ay his fuckin depth here, tryin to talk tae my Ma. Worse still, these Glasgow cunts, the auld boy's side, are here through en masse. They're fill ay shite aboot how Billy died in service ay his country n all that servile Hun crap. Billy wis a daft cunt, pure and simple. No a hero, no a martyr, just a daft cunt.”

“The rhetorical question, the stock-in-trade weapon ay burds and psychos.”