Country Bumpkin Quotes & Sayings

You have immense power. You are a god. You are a silent sun hiding in the earth as a human. — Debasish Mridha

One of the things that's pretty unique about nu shu, when you look especially at these old letters and stories that have been saved, is that there are certain lines that are very standard that are used again and again. It's almost like a formula in a sense, so that these certain lines come up again and again. — Lisa See

Don't tell me God works in mysterious ways,' Yossarian continued, hurtling on over her objection. 'There's nothing so mysterious about it. He's not working at all. He's playing. Or else He's forgotten all about us. That's the kind of God you people talk about - a country bumpkin, a clumsy, bungling, brainless, conceited, uncouth hayseed. Good God, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include such phenomena as phlegm and tooth decay in His divine system of creation? What in the world was running through that warped, evil, scatological mind of His when He robbed old people of the power to control their bowel movements? Why in the world did He ever create pain?'
'Pain?' Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife pounced upon the word victoriously. 'Pain is a useful symptom. Pain is a warning to us of bodily dangers.'
'And who created the dangers?' Yossarian demanded ... 'Why couldn't He have used a doorbell instead to notify us? — Joseph Heller

I know the rules. I've been living here longer than you have."
He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. "Hardly."
"Born and raised. You're a transplant." I nudge him again, a little harder, and he laughs and tries to catch hold of my arm. I squirm away, giggling, and he stretches out to tickle my stomach. "Country bumpkin!" I squeal, as he grabs out and wrestles me back onto the blanket, laughing.
"City slicker," he says, rolling over on top of me, and then kisses me. Everything dissolves: heat, explosions of color, floating. — Lauren Oliver

I'm a country bumpkin. I'm not a showgirl. — Agnetha Faltskog

When I grew up in Pittsburgh in my parents' restaurant, I was almost like a country bumpkin. — Ming-Na Wen

Human love has little regard for the truth. It makes the truth relative, since nothing, not even the truth, must come between it and the beloved person. — Dietrich Bonhoeffer

There's nothing mysterious about it, He's not working at all. He's playing. Or else He's forgotten all about us. That's the kind of God you people talk about, a country bumpkin, a clumsy, bungling, brainless, conceited, uncouth hayseed. Good God, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include such phenomena as phlegm and tooth decay in His divine system of Creation? What in the world was running through that warped, evil, scatological mind of His when He robbed old people of the power to control their bowel movements? Why in the world did He ever create pain? — Joseph Heller

The man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed. — Anonymous

You ARE Zaphod Beeblebrox?'
'Yeah,' said Zaphod, 'but don't shout it out or they'll all want one.'
'THE Zaphod Beeblebrox?'
'No, just A Zaphod Beeblebrox, didn't you hear I come in six packs?'
'But sir,' it squealed, 'I just heard on the sub-ether radio report. It said you were dead ... '
'Yeah, that's right, I just haven't stopped moving yet. — Douglas Adams

The whole thing was weird, and that was saying something for a girl who was used to weird. — Aileen Erin

No town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one- I mean a downright bumpkin dandy- a fellow that, in the dog-days of summer, will mow his two acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands. — Herman Melville

He created kingdoms, and then destroyed them as he made the world anew. We had the wrong gender all along. — Brandon Sanderson

Ah, those were the days ... The Dark-Hunters hunted us, we slaughtered them. We made our homes in underground catacombs and crypts where the Hunters couldn't go without getting possessed. It was an interesting time to be Apollite or Daimon. But that was before we discovered civilization and modern conveniences. Before the human world developed enough to where we could exist at night under the pretense of being one of them. Apollites owning businesses and houses. Daimons playing Nintendo. What is this world coming to? (Thanatos) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Andi was forbidden fruit, and even if she wasn't, there was no way a pure country bumpkin like her could handle a self-confessed pussy pounding warrior like me. — Kirsty Dallas

As Molly wrapped one of the freshly made flour tortillas around several slices of perfectly cooked steak and piled on guacamole, she began talking. The more she talked, the faster her words came. It was as if she were afraid that someone else would say something or ask her a question. She said that she was working for a firm in Los Angeles that designed sets for television and movies.
"It's different from what you do," she said looking at Boomer. "Sets have to be bigger than life. They have to create an impact. Not boring stuff like the designs for offices."
Elizabeth saw Boomer's eyes flash, but he answered with perfect control, "What's the name of the firm you work for?"
"It's new; it's going through a name change, and they're not sure what name they're going to settle on."
"What movies have they worked on?"
"Oh, a whole bunch. Stuff with Tom Cruise and Johnny Depp. Big movies. — Joyce Swann

I was just a bumpkin. Just a country bumpkin. I had just come to New York from Virginia. Or was it Baltimore? — Cass Elliot

Yes. I was such a bumpkin then ... I was as naive a country mushroom as you could meet. — Anna Campbell

In vain I warned other Arab leaders, those pleasure-seeking gluttons who only listen to the fawning and simpering of those who owe them favors. There was a full complement of them at Cairo, lined up like onions, spying on each other on the sly, half of them so conceited they could not stop behaving like constipated patriarchs, the other half too thick to be able to look serious. Arrivistes who thought they had really arrived, comic-opera presidents unable to shake off their country-bumpkin reflexes, petrodollar emirs looking like rabbits straight out of the magician's hat, sultans wrapped in their robes like ghosts, disgusted at the blathering eulogies the speakers were trotting out ad infinitum. Why were they there? They cared for nothing that did not concern their personal fortunes. Busy stuffing their pockets, they refused to look up to see how dizzyingly fast the world was changing or how tomorrow's storm clouds of hate were gathering on the horizon. — Yasmina Khadra

And don't tell me God works in mysterious ways," Yossarian continued, hurtling on over her objection. "There's nothing so mysterious about it. He's not working at all. He's playing. Or else He's forgotten all about us. That's the kind of God you people talk about - a country bumpkin, a clumsy, bungling, brainless, conceited, uncouth hayseed. — Joseph Heller