Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
All this happened, more or less.
Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.
There is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre.
Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones.
They do not love one another because they do not love themselves.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies.
It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.
Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is.
All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true.
People aren’t supposed to look back. I’m certainly not going to do it anymore.
All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.
I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.
Before you kill somebody, make absolutely sure he isn't well connected. So it goes.
The gun made a ripping sound like the opening of a zipper on the fly of God Almighty.
And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "Poo-tee-weet?
Among the things Billy Pilgrim could not change were the past, the present, and the future.
Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I’ve said before, bugs in amber.
And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.
Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.
If I am going to spend eternity visiting this moment and that, I'm grateful that so many of those moments are nice.
That's one thing Earthlings might learn to do, if they tried hard enough: Ignore the awful times and concentrate on the good ones.
He is in a constant state of stage fright, he says, because he never knows what part of his life he is going to have to act in next
The nicest veterans in Schenectady, I thought, the kindest and funniest ones, the ones who hated war the most, were the ones who'd really fought.
...when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, present, and future, always have existed, always will exist.
It is just an illusion here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone, it is gone forever.
The Population Reference Bureau predicts that the world's total population will double to 7,000,000,000 before the year 2000. I suppose they will all want dignity, I said.
There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.
I am a Tralfamadorian, seeing all time as you might see a stretch of the Rocky Mountains. All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is.
- Why me? - That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber? - Yes. - Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.
If I hadn’t spent so much time studying Earthlings," said the Tralfamadorian, "I wouldn’t have any idea what was meant by 'free will.' I've visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe, and I have studied reports on one hundred more. Only on Earth is there any talk of free will.
When a Tralfamadorian sees a corpse, all he thinks is that the dead person is in bad condition in the particular moment, but that the same person is just fine in plenty of other moments. Now, when I myself hear that somebody is dead, I simply shrug and say what the Tralfamadorians say about dead people, which is "So it goes.
Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue, the monograph went on. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact how hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves.
It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "Poo-tee-weet?
What good the prophet in the wilderness may do is incremental and personal. It's good for us to hear someone speak the irrational truth. It's good for us when, in spite of all of the sober, pragmatic, and even correct arguments that war is sometimes necessary someone says: war is large-scale murder, us at our worst, the stupidest guy doing the cruelest thing to the weakest being.