Down In The Dump Quotes & Sayings
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Top Down In The Dump Quotes

Everything has a spirit and it's all connected. If you think about that, if you live your life by it, then you're less likely to cause any hurt. It's like how our bodies go back into the ground when we die, so that connects us to the earth. If you dump trash, you're dumping it on your and my ancestors. Or to bring it down to its simplest level: treat everything and everybody the way you want to be treated, because when you hurt someone, you're only hurting yourself. — Charles De Lint

... have poets write about you as if you are alive. Scientifically, it is absolutely true, you are alive. You have a pulse, the waves, and a metabolism, the food chain. A personality, a character, a consciousness, and a sense of purpose ... try this- turn into spray, spin rainbows ... wear down entire mountains and dump them in layers ... gently surround marina sea grass twice a day, protecting and feeding thousands of crabs, ducks, and geese ... fill human eyes with warm salt brine at least once a month ...
Becoming Water — Susan Zwinger

She worshiped the ground he walked on and would even eat out of the toilet bowl he took a dump in if it came down to it. — Angel Williams

He offers a subtle wag and paws at my leg. I reach down and pull him up to my lap and scratch his tummy. "How about you, buddy? You ready to get out of this dump?" Bernie Kosar thumps his tail against the bed. — Pittacus Lore

But this is what I know about people getting ready to walk of the edge of their own lives: they want someone to know how they got there. Maybe they want to know that when they dissolve into earth and water, that last fragment will be saved, held in some corner of someone's mind; or maybe all they want is a chance to dump it pulsing and bloody into someone else's hands, so it won't weigh them down on the journey. They want to leave their stories behind. No one in all the world knows that better than I do. — Tana French

It's this smoke from the burnin garbage, kid. Enough to make a maggot puke, ain't it? Lookit! The smoke's risin' t'ward the full moon like the ghosts a men so rotten even their spirits're carryin the contamination with em. Hey, li'l chick, you din't know Old Man knew them big words like contamination, didja? That's what livin on the city dump does for you. I hear that word all a time from the big shots that come down inspectin the stink here so they kin get away from the stink a City Hall. 1 ain't no illiterate. I got a TV set. Hor, hor, hor! — Philip Jose Farmer

I motioned for Slade to pick her up. "Take care of her, will you?" I asked him.
Slade looked down at Katie, still clinging to his legs, and then back at me. A stricken look crossed his face. He leaned toward me and whispered, "Um. To be clear, are you asking me to kill her and dump her body?"
"What? No! Why on earth would you think that?"
Brent cleared his throat. "To a Shadow King, 'taking care of someone' has a very different connotation."
"Oh . . . Oh!" I was going to have to be more careful with my vocabulary choices in the future. — Bree Despain

businessman. And the economy right now is terrible." She turned to her father. "Do you mean that old dump on Arbor Drive? There's nothing down there but empty buildings. No one will go down there for ice cream." "Ah, that's where you're wrong, Virginia." Her father pointed at her with one hand while gripping the arm of his chair with the other. "The city council wants to renovate the entire area. They're adding a bike path and a new boat launch. That whole stretch along the lake will become just like the old Atlantic City boardwalk." Like the fish that got away, every time her father told this story, it grew in size. There was just no telling — Tracy Brogan

Mr. Market does not always price stocks the way an appraiser or a private buyer would value a business. Instead, when stocks are going up, he happily pays more than their objective value; and, when they are going down, he is desperate to dump them for less than their true worth. — Benjamin Graham

Does she ever get sick from eating human food?" Kaddar watched as the dragon managed to dump half the water down her throat and half all over herself.
Daine smiled. "She never gets sick from anything, Once she ate a box of myrrh. She was only three months old. I thought every little accident she had would harm her for life."
"She didn't get sick?"
"She burped smoke for a week, that's all. — Tamora Pierce

You're right, Dad. Dr. Golan did help me. But that doesn't mean he has to control every aspect of my life. I mean, Jesus, you and mom might as well buy me one of those little bracelets that says, What Would Golan Do? That way I can ask myself before I do anything. Before I take a dump. How would Dr. Golan want me to take this dump? Should I bank it off the side or go straight down the middle? What would be the most psychologically beneficial dump I could take? — Ransom Riggs

Go straight to God, and dump it right at His feet. You go down with it if you have to. Then leave it there and go on and do what you know is right now. That other is done. It doesn't make you who you are. It just teaches you who to be. — Nancy Rue

I left the sadomasochist dump with a girl from the south of France named Simone. She was wearing a tight blue dress with red wine spilled down the front of it. She was so drunk, she didn't care. "Fuck it," she kept saying in English, "you know?" The tattooed doorman called out an endearment to us as we emerged for his cave ... We linked arms and walked. Simone was talking about her new boyfriend, but I didn't listen. I was thinking about Lisa's shame at Naxos, trying to gloat. But Alex was right- even a young girls shame could be beautiful. — Mary Gaitskill

I'm about to take a shower because I smell like an all-nighter, then I think I'll take a bath so I can have a faucet orgasm. After all, I didn't get any last night. A faucet orgasm is pretty much the same principle as a bidet orgasm except upside-down. When we were growing up we had bidets in all the bathrooms and when I was about ten I accidentally discovered one of the things they were good for. After that I used to spend hours on the damn thing. This dump we rent doesn't have a bidet so I have to get in the tub and slide up toward the front, running my legs up the wall on either side of the faucet. Turn on the warm water and smile. Actually, you've got to get the water temperature just right first or you could really be in for a nasty shock. I've made that mistake a few times. This time I get it just right and I come three times before I get around to actually taking a bath. — Jay McInerney

Hackney at certain epochs has given itself suburban airs and graces, before being slapped down and consigned once more to the dump bin of aborted ambition. — Iain Sinclair

The servant wasn't amused. He still looked stern and suspicious, but Rupert had given his improvised explanation while walking toward the man and was within reach by the last word. He tried a punch first, grabbing the servant's shirtfront as he did so the man wouldn't land out in the hall. If that didn't work,he wasn't sure what would. He certainly didn't want to seriously harm the fellow,just knock him out and dump him out the window for the time being.
Half of that plan worked. The man did drop immediately and Rupert's hold on him kept him from falling loudly to the floor. He even got him to the window with ease, but the plan ended there. Priceless. The window frame was nailed shut for the cold months to minimize drafts. Bloody hell,it wasn't that cold yet. There were no large pieces of furniture to stick the man behind either. As a last resort, he dragged him back to the hall wall and just laid him down alongside it, so he'd be less noticeable to anyone passing by the room — Johanna Lindsey

It's OK to be down in the dumps - just don't stay there too long. — Catherine DeVrye

So, you're dead asleep, and you get a call. Something terrible's happened, and I'm dead. What do you do?"
It took him a moment to quell the terror, to ignore the small, dark place inside him that feared getting that call every day. "Before or after I fall prostrate with grief?"
"Before, during, and after. Do you peruse your wardrobe and select a coordinating outfit - down to the footwear? Do you deal with your hair so it's perfectly groomed?"
"With my considerable skills and innate instincts that would take no time at all."
"Keep it up and I'll dump red sauce all over your fashionable smarty-pants."
"That statement is one of the countless reasons why, under the circumstances you described, I'd be lucky to remember to dress at all. — J.D. Robb

Arnie pulls at my T-shirt. I shove his hand away. He pushes down the toilet handle and the bathroom fills with that flush sound. Tucker says, "You taking a dump?"
"No."
"Liar. I heard the flush. You were taking a dump."
"But I ... "
"I just wish you'd admit it. We got to be honest with each other."
"But ... "
"I heard the flush, Gilbert. You can't fool Tucker Van Dyke. — Peter Hedges

If ever you've been down in the dumps, hear these iconic authors share with you more than their writing wisdom. — Mark Twain

Could dump two Chinee down in one of our maria and they would get rich selling rocks to each other while raising twelve kids. Then a Hindu would sell retail stuff he got from them wholesale
below cost at a fat profit. We got along. — Robert A. Heinlein

My saxophone playing
And my wino career are in a slump
'Cause I find myself now living
In a cardboard refrigerator box down by the Houston dump — Jeff Simmons

In clear-cutting, he said, you clear away the natural forest, or what the industrial forester calls "weed trees," and plant all one species of tree in neat straight functional rows like corn, sorghum, sugar beets or any other practical farm crop. You then dump on chemical fertilizers to replace the washed-away humus, inject the seedlings with growth-forcing hormones, surround your plot with deer repellants and raise a uniform crop of trees, all identical. When the trees reach a certain prespecified height (not maturity; that takes too long) you send in a fleet of tree-harvesting machines and cut the fuckers down. All of them. Then burn the slash, and harrow, seed, fertilize all over again, round and round and round again, faster and faster, tighter and tighter until, like the fabled Malaysian Concentric Bird which flies in ever-smaller circles, you disappear up your own asshole. — Edward Abbey

Cut it out!" Phillip exploded. "Cut it out right now or I swear I'm going to pull over and knock your heads together. Oh, my God." He took one hand off the wheel to drag it down his face. "I sound like Mom. Forget it. Just forget it. Kill each other. I'll dump the bodies in the mall parking lot and drive to Mexico. I'll learn how to weave mats and sell them on the beach at Cozumel. I'll be quiet, it'll be peaceful. I'll change my name to Raoul, and no one will know I was ever related to a bunch of fools."
Seth scratched his belly and turned to Cam. "Does he always talk like that?"
"Yeah, mostly. Sometimes he's going to be Pierre and live in a garret in Paris, but it's the same thing."
"Weird," was Seth's only comment. ( ... ) Getting new shows was turning into a new adventure. — Nora Roberts

In silence the man reined in his horse, dismounted, lifted me down to a high grassy spot that was scarcely damp. In the gathering gloom he tended to his horse, which presently cropped at the grass. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness; the flare of light from a Fire Stick, and the reddish flicker of a fire, startled me.
At first I turned away, for the unsteady flame hurt my eyes, but after a time the prospect of warmth brought me around, and I started inching toward the fire.
The man looked up, dropped what he was doing, and took a step toward me. "I can carry you," he said.
I waved him off. "I'll do it myself," I said shortly, thinking, Why be polite now? So I'll be in a good mood when you dump me in Galdran's dungeon? — Sherwood Smith

Some people, I am told, have memories like computers, nothing to do but punch the button and wait for the print-out. Mine is more like a Japanese library of the old style, without a card file or an indexing system or any systematic shelf plan. Nobody knows where anything is except the old geezer in felt slippers who has been shuffling up and down those stacks for sixty-nine years. When you hand him a problem he doesn't come back with a cartful and dump it before you, a jackpot of instant retrieval. He finds one thing, which reminds him of another, which leads him off to the annex, which directs him to the east wing, which sends him back two tiers from where he started. Bit by bit he finds you what you want, but like his boss who seems to be under pressure to examine his life, he takes his time. — Wallace Stegner

There were, of course, other heroes, little ones who did little things to help people get through: merchants who let profits disappear rather than lay off clerks, store owners who accepted teachers' scrip at face value not knowing if the state would ever redeem it, churches that set up soup kitchens, landlords who let tenants stay on the place while other owners turned to cattle, housewives who set out plates of cold food (biscuits and sweet potatoes seemed the fare of choice) so transients could eat without begging, railroad "bulls" who turned the other way when hoboes slipped on and off the trains, affluent families that carefully wrapped leftover food because they knew that residents of "Hooverville" down by the dump would be scavenging their garbage for their next meal, and more, an more. But they were not enough, could not have been enough, so when the government stepped in to help, those needing help we're thankful. — Harvey H. Jackson

People talk about love as though it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers. And a lot of people give love like that
just dump it down on top of you, a useless strong-scented burden. — Anne Morrow Lindbergh

It's a rare day when she speaks in anything but platitudes
all those exhausted phrases and hand-me-down ideas that cram the dump sites of contemporary wisdom — Paul Auster

The whole island was exactly what a kid growing up in some trailer park
say some dump like Tecumseh Lake, Georgia
would dream about. This kid would turn out all the lights in the trailer while her mom was at work. She'd lie down flat on her back, on the matted-down orange shag carpet in the living room. The carpet smelling like somebody stepped in a dog pile. The orange melted black in spots from cigarette burns. The ceiling was water-stained. she'd fold her arms across her chest, and she could picture life in this kind of place. It would be that time
late at night
when your ears reach out for any sound. When you can see more with your eyes closed than open. The fish skeleton. From the first time she held a crayon, that's what she'd draw. — Chuck Palahniuk

So I heard on the news that the Tard died and your house burnt down. I bet secretly you're relieved you don't have to live with him anymore in that dump."
The whole commotion in the hallway immediately stopped, as if her words had been spoken over the intercom. It became so quiet that you could hear Mina's and Nan's sharp intakes of breath. Mina wasn't prone to violence and was about to think of something mean to say back to Savannah, but she didn't have the chance to, because Nan Taylor, perky, happy-go-lucky Nan Taylor, pulled back her fist and punched Savannah in the face.
Savannah wasn't prepared, and fell to the floor. Nan stood over her shocked face and yelled, "No way was he handicapped, or different. He was the most special, coolest and smartest kid ever. And the world is a much sadder place because he's not here. And don't you ever, EVER, insult him again!" Nan shook with anger.
The hall was full of students and teachers, and one by one they started to clap. — Chanda Hahn

For the Christian one dislocating, self-impoverishing hour spent with a child living in a broken-down dump is worth more than all the burial mounds of rhetoric, all the enfeebled good intentions, all the mumbling and fumbling and tardiness of those Christians who are so busy cultivating their own holiness that they cannot hear the anguished cry of the child in the slum. — Brennan Manning

Hey, Hayley," I say as I sit down and pick up one of her action figures. She has Barbies, too, but she would rather play with her Legos and building blocks. Maybe she'll be an engineer one day. Or maybe she'll be an amazing tattoo artist like her dad. I make her action figure kiss her Barbie, and she giggles. "I think they're in love," I whisper. "Like you and my daddy," she says back quietly. I nod. And emotion clogs my throat again. I turn my head and cough, and then I dump a box of Legos on the floor. "I think Barbie needs a fortress," I say. She nods, and we start to build a plastic fortress together, because sometimes a girl just needs a fucking fortress. — Tammy Falkner

She had to get a hold of herself. She had to run. Did she have a chance of making it out alive? Something told her "no." Definitely no. The chamber exit, a narrow doorway, led to an even narrower passage that would dump her back into the dark jungle. She wouldn't make it two feet before he barreled down on her with those powerful thighs. Yes, powerful thighs. Ummm. She ground her palm into her forehead. Tramp! Get a hold of yourself. — Mimi Jean Pamfiloff