Jannys Toledo Quotes & Sayings

A harmonica is easy to carry. Take it out of your hip pocket, knock it against your palm to shake out the dirt and pocket fuzz and bits of tobacco. Now it's ready. You can do anything with a harmonica: thin reedy single tone, or chords or melody with rhythm chords. You can mold the music with curved hands, making it wail and cry like bagpipes, making it full and rounds like an organ, making it as sharp and bitter as the reed pipes of the hills. And you can play it and put it back in your pocket. It is always with you, always in your pocket. And as you play, you learn new tricks, to pinch the tone with your lips, and no one teaches you. You feel around - sometimes in the tent door after supper when the women are washing up. Your foot taps gently on the ground. Your foot taps gently on the ground. Your eyebrows rise and fall in rhythm. And if you lose it or break it, why, it's no great loss. You can buy another for a quarter. — John Steinbeck

I liked Pritkin loud and bitching, in other words, his normal state. I didn't like it when he got quiet. — Karen Chance

How?" I demanded. "How could you have screwed this one up?"
"When I got in, they said the manager was on the phone and would be a few minutes. So, I sat down and ordered a drink."
This time, I did lean my forehead against the steering wheel. "What did you order?"
"A martini."
"A martini." I lifted my head. "You ordered a martini before a job interview."
"It's a bar, Sage. I figured they'd be cool with it. — Richelle Mead

There are worse occupations in this world than feeling a woman's pulse. — Laurence Sterne

The Ultimate and Highest leave taking is leaving God for GOD, leaving your notion of God for an Experience of That which transcends all notions. — Meister Eckhart

Let us never allow ourselves to think that poverty is an excuse for an invitation to totalitarianism, and if we should be tempted to think as much, let us remind ourselves that totalitarianism not only extinguishes liberty but institutionalises poverty as well — Bernard Levin

I got the fat poet into a corner and told him he was writing shit and couldn't get away with it

Now it is night and time
for sleep. Everyone is
tired

from garbage-glutting
lifting their snouts
from the trough
long enough
to ease their gut -
I won't urge the point.

Gold-plated poems
to stuff up
their mind's ass

or politics
watered down so as
not to scare the blue bloods
Boo! you well-fed bastards — Kenneth Patchen