Christopher Moore Quotes


Type: Writer

Born: January 1, 1957


Christopher Moore is an American writer of absurdist fiction. He grew up in Mansfield, OH, and attended Ohio State University and Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, CA. Moore's novels typically involve conflicted everyman characters suddenly struggling through supernatural or extraordinary circumstances. Inheriting a humanism from his love of John Steinbeck and a sense of the absurd from Kurt Vonnegut, Moore is a best-selling author with major cult status.

Christopher Moore Quotes

People, generally, suck.

If you think anyone is sane you just don't know enough about them.

There's some heinous fuckery goin' on mon.

He was a writer and words were his weapons.

The three jewels of Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility. Balthasar said compassion leads to courage, moderation leads to generosity, and humility leads to leadership.

Love: the sickest of Irony’s sick jokes. The place where logic and order go to die.

Love needs room to grow. Like a rose. Or a tumor.

She's so small, yet she contains so much evil.

I love you above all things, even pie.

I've seen more intelligence in the crotch lice of harem whores.

Canada is a myth people made up to entertain children, like the Tooth Fairy. There’s no such place.

Christmas crept into Pine Cove like a creeping Christmas thing: dragging garland, ribbon, and sleigh bells, oozing eggnog, reeking of pine, and threatening festive doom like a cold sore under the mistletoe.

Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, you can't have a baby brother, because that would mean that Daddy had sex, and that's never going to happen again.

I've won Satan's lottery.

By Aladdin's lamplit scrotum, man! Everything is a story. What is there but stories? Stories are the only truth.

Shoes off in the whale! And don't try and make a break for the anus.

Boredom can be a lethal thing on a small island.

That's the scary thing about hope," she said. "If you let it go too long it turns into faith.

Hope is bulletproof, truth just hard to hit

Routine feeds the illusion of safety...

Mr. Asher, you can resist who you are for only so long. Finally, you just decide to go with fate.

... but to remain historically accurate, I would have had to leave out an important question that I felt needed to be addressed, which is, 'What if Jesus had known kung fu?

And I was all, "Don't be gross, you crustacious fuck. You pull that thing out and I'll pepper-spray you until you fry." (You have to be stern with weenie waggers-I've been exposed to on the bus over seventeen times, so I know.)

Abby Von Normal - And I'm like, "Don't change the subject, Kung Pao, what I want to know is if you're ready to spend some up-close and personal time with ninety pounds of barbarian woman-flesh! Sorry, I don't know how much that is in kilos.

As a teacher of fourth-graders in a public school, where corporal punishement was not allowed, she had years of violence stored up and was, truth be told, sort of enjoying letting it out on Kona, who she felt could have been the poster child for the failure of public education.

Science, you don't know, looks like magic.

All killer whales are named Kevin. You knew that, right?

Stephenie Meyer: Her vampires are sparkly, which I think we can all agree is wrong.

The angel has confided in me that he is going to ask the Lord if he can become Spider-Man. [...] The children need heroes, he says. I think he just wants to swing from buildings in tight red jammies.

Blessed are the meek, for to them we shall say "attaboy".

...and thus he found his single source of joy in the society of other people: frightening the girls with his penis.

In business, as in politics, the public is ever so tolerant of those who slime.

Nobody's perfect. Well, there was this one guy, but we killed him.... if someone had thrown a hand grenade into the middle of a teddy bear orgy and the only survivors had had their fur blown off.

I'm feeling full of tiny princes, bustling to get out into the world and start plotting against one another.

So I am death" Charlie said then turned to his daughter while buttering his toast.

"This is death toast sweety.

The Painting is not shit,' said Lucien.

'I know,' said Henri. 'That was just part of the subterfuge. I am of royal lineage; subterfuge is one of the many talents we carry in our blood, along with guile and hemophilia.

'Paint only what you see,' his hero Millet had admonished.
'Imagination is a burden to a painter,' Auguste Renoir had told him. 'Painters are craftsmen, not storytellers. Paint what you see.'
Ah, but what they hadn't said, hadn't warned him about, was how much you could see.

Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead.' Then she called him a name in a dead language that translated, roughly, to 'poop on a stick,' but sounded more succinct, like this: 'Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead, Poopstick.

I love you, Lucien, but I am a muse, you are an artist, I am not here to make you comfortable.

I like a girl with a substantial bottom,' said Renoir, drawing in the air the size bottom he preferred.

Whistler,' Manet called. 'How's your mother?

Praying is talking to God. Meditating is listening.

I tried cutting myself to express my heartbreak over Tommy (Lord Flood) rejecting me, but OMFG it hurts like flaming fuck.

Any freedom that can be given can be taken away.

A wall is a defense of a country that values inaction. But a wall imprisons the people of a country as much as it protects them. That's why Balthasar had us go this way. He wanted me to see the error in the Tao. One can't be free without action.

The prospect of change is a many-fanged beast, my dear.

Which isn’t, like, as bad as it sounds, because the general public kind of sucks ass.

Children see magic because they look for it.

Why write a song when no one can play the notes or understand the lyrics?

Andrew Lloyd Webber's version of the Kool-Aid jingle is at once chilling and evocative. Donny Osmond is brilliant as James Jones.

If they'd been dogs, they would have all been in the yard eating grass and trying to yak up whatever was making them feel so lousy. Not a bone gnawed, not a ball chased-all tails went unwagged. Oh, life is a fast cat, a short leash, a flea in that place where you just can't scratch.

Share Page

Christopher Moore Wiki

Christopher Moore At Amazon