No Spitting Quotes & Sayings

Perhaps dirt is the necessary condition of beauty ... Perhaps hygiene and art can never be bedfellows. No Verdi, after all, without spitting into trumpets. No Duse without a crowd of malodorous bourgeois giving one another their coryzas. And think of the inexpugnable retreats for microbes prepared by Michelangelo in the curls of Moses' beard! — Aldous Huxley

Paithin- ... he is orn! mother peytin's son, come to lead us to safety!
zifnab- thats it! orn, favors his mother-
roland- no, he doesnt. look! hes human! wouldnt mother whats- her - name's kid be and elf- wait!
i know! he is one of the lords of thillia! come back to us, like the legend foretold!
zifnab- that too! i dont know why i didnt recognize him. the spitting image of his father! — Margaret Weis

In this world, there is no such thing as good or bad. If there is flower shop on one side and a butcher's shop on the other, why should we keep spitting? You have to leave away both the bad as well as the good. — Dada Bhagwan

When hip-hop was born she had no commercial home, and was an invention of beautiful creativity. Born from a beautiful struggle, today she is mostly a 'ratchet' bitch spitting nonsense from her pimp's mansion. — T.F. Hodge

There is no spitting on the way we're on.
Rain itself turns to spit on those who mock and casually show disrespect to saints. — Jalaluddin Rumi

How far they came to perish here, these soldiers and these machines! What bizarre train of events brought youngsters from the Rhineland and Prussia, from the Scottish Highlands and London, from Australia and New Zealand, to butt at each other to the death with flame-spitting machinery in faraway Africa, in a setting as dry and lonesome as the moon?

But that is the hallmark of this war. No other war has ever been like it. This war rings the world.... Men fight as far from home as they can be transported, with courage and endurance that makes one proud of the human race, in horrible contrivances that make one ashamed of the human race. — Herman Wouk

ESAELP GNITTIPS ON
This mysterious decree would incite me to defy it and spit on the ground at once, but because the police were stationed two steps away in front of the Governor's Mansion, I'd just stare at it uneasily instead. Now I began to fear that spit would suddenly climb out of my throat and land on the ground without my even willing it. But as I knew, spitting was mostly a habit of grown-ups of the same stock as those brainless, weak-willed, insolent children who were always being punished by my teacher. Yes, we would sometimes see people spitting on the streets, or hawking up phlegm because they had no tissues, but this didn't happen often enough to merit a decree of this severity, even outside the Governor's Manson. Later on, when I read about the Chinese spitting pots and discovered how commonplace spitting was in other parts of the world, I asked myself why they'd gone to such lengths to discourage spitting in Istanbul, where it had never been popular. — Orhan Pamuk

She hissed, right there behind my ear, and I had the horrible idea she was spitting maggots into my hair. Why maggots were a problem when I was about to be dead, I didn't know, but the idea completely grossed me out.
"In the womb I heard you die, for no one lives when a banshee cries."
I wasn't just going to die. I was going to be rhymed to death. That simply wasn't fair. — C.E. Murphy

She came at him sideways, away from his legs, reaching down to pull the duct tape away. He didn't even notice the pain, spitting out the rag someone had put in his mouth earlier. She turned, and handed him a bottle of water. "You're probably thirsty. The drug I gave you tends to make your mouth dry."
"No, I think that was caused by the sock someone stuffed in there," he said. "Your work? — Anne Stuart

All the passengers are very dismal, and seem to have tremendous secrets weighing on their minds. There is no conversation, no laughter, no cheerfulness, no sociality, except in spitting; and that is done in silent fellowship round the stove, when the meal is over. — Charles Dickens

"Heard you choking, are you all right?"
"You're beautiful, a good kisser, this is our first date, my bed is in the room, I'm nervous as all heck and I just thought I was going to die choking after spitting out gum so no, I'm not all right."
Yes, that's what I blurted, word for word.
Chace stared at me.
I stared back both wondering if I could will myself to melt like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz and if that was what Laurie meant by honesty or if it was a tad over the top.
( ... )
Then his tongue was in my mouth.
( ... )
"Still nervous?"
"No," I whispered.
"Good," he muttered. — Kristen Ashley

The cricket was no more, but the power of love had found its way, and I was again myself and no longer a cricket, I was Arturo Bandini, and the elm tree yonder was Miss Hopkins, and I got to my knees and put my arms around the tree, kissing it for love everlasting, tearing the bark with my teeth and spitting it on the lawn. — John Fante

A map of the moon ... should be in every geological lecture room; for no where can we have a more complete or more magnificent illustration of volcanic operations. Our sublimest volcanoes would rank among the smaller lunar eminences; and our Etnas are but spitting furnaces. — James Dwight Dana

Need someone to rescue?" She interrupted him again, spitting her words out with all the rage, contempt, and anger she had bottled up inside. "I'm not a damsel in distress, and you sir, are no knight in shining double breasted, JC Penny! — Dennis Sharpe

But one afternoon Lila said softly that there was nothing that could eliminate the conflict between the rich and the poor.
"Why?"
"Those who are on the bottom always want to be on top, those who are on top want to stay on top, and one way or another they always reach the point where they're kicking and spitting at each other."
"That's exactly why problems should be resolved before violence breaks out."
"And how? Putting everyone on top, putting everyone on the bottom?"
"Finding a point of equilibrium between the classes."
"A point where? Those from the bottom meet those from the top in the middle?"
"Let's say yes."
"And those on top will be willing to go down? And those on the bottom will give up on going any higher?"
"If people work to solve all problems well, yes. You're not convinced?"
"No. The classes aren't playing cards, they're fighting, and it's a fight to the death. — Elena Ferrante

Well, I've been a musician my whole life. When I was two, I would sing the theme from Star Wars in my crib; my mom taped it for proof. Then, when I was five, I asked for a violin. No one knew why I would want one, but my wish was granted and I ended up a classically trained fiddler by age 12. The only problem with that was, when you're a classical violinist, everybody expects you to be satisfied with playing Tchaikovsky for the rest of your life, and saying you want to play jazz, rock, write songs, sing your songs, hook up your fiddle to a guitar amp, sleep with your 4-track recorder, mess around with synths, dress like Tinkerbell in combat boots, AND play Tchaikovsky is equivalent to spitting on the Pope. — Emilie Autumn

You're of use because you're more than a weapon. When your wife died, she didn't just give you a vendetta. She gave you her dream. You're its keeper. Its maker. So don't be spitting anger and hate. You're not fighting against them, no matter what Harmony says. You're fighting for Eo's dream, for your family that is still alive, your people. — Pierce Brown

So what's going on?" Livy asked after spitting out a bit more blood.
"Got a job for you."
"Will I be whoring?"
"Not this time. I'm sorry."
"You know how I love to whore," Livy stated with that flat tone that freaked people out, because no one ever knew whether she was joking or not. — Shelly Laurenston

Rambert also spent a certain amount of time at the railroad station. No one was allowed on the platforms. But the waiting-rooms, which could be entered from outside, remained open and, being cool and dark, were often patronized by beggars on very hot days. Rambert spent much time studying the timetables, reading the prohibitions against spitting, and the passengers' regulations. After that he sat down in a corner. An old cast-iron stove, which had been stone-cold for months, rose like a sort of landmark in the middle of the room, surrounded by figure-of-eight patterns on the floor, the traceries of long-past sprinklings. Posters on the walls gaily invited tourists to a carefree holiday at Cannes or Bandol. And in his corner Rambert savored that bitter sense of freedom which comes of total deprivation. — Albert Camus

They talk about myths: the myth that links testosterone to libido, for example, in both men and women. If the myth were true, then these women should have no sex drive; they can't, after all, respond to the testosterone their bodies produce. Some sex researchers have said as much about AIS patients - that they're frigid, uninterested, dead in bed. The women themselves come close to spitting in rage at that sort of talk. Whether or not they manage to inflate their vaginas sufficiently to have intercourse, their erotic nature remains intact. They fantasize about sex. They are orgasmic. They lust when there is somebody worth lusting after. — Natalie Angier

I was thinking we could get a picture of you holding a pitchfork or something. Maybe a big wooden cross? Sound good?"(Brian)
She stared at him. He lifted his hands and leaned back in his seat, as if he was afraid she might start spitting on him. "Hey, only joking."
"Very funny."
"Oh, I do love jokes." Greyson Dante stood by her side.
"Hello, Mr. Dante. I'm afraid this is a private conversation, so you will, of course, be going now."
His grin widened. Was there no way to insult the man? — Stacia Kane

Ask questions, no, screech questions out loud - while kneeling in front of the electric doors at Safeway, demanding other citizens ask questions along with you - while chewing up old textbooks and spitting the words onto downtown sidewalks - outside the Planet Hollywood, outside the stock exchange, and outside the Gap. Grind questions onto the glass on photocopiers. Scrape challenges onto old auto parts and throw them off bridges so that future people digging in the mud will question the world, too. Carve eyeballs into tire treads and onto shoe leathers so that your every trail speaks of thinking and questioning and awareness. Design molecules that crystallize into question marks. Make bar codes print out fables, not prices. You can't even throw away a piece of litter unless it has a question mark stamped on it - a demand for people to reach a finer place — Douglas Coupland

If you go to an ATM for a hundred dollars and it keeps spitting twenties, when would you walk away? When it wasn't spitting twenties no more. As long as you can take the money out, you'd stay there. That's what the wrestling business is like. — Kevin Nash

The War on Drugs, from the Hastings-facing window of the Portland
Hotel, is manifested in the pregnant Celia kneeling on the sidewalk,
handcuffed wrists behind her back, eyes cast on the ground. There
was no Detective-Sergeant Gillespie to protect her when, as a little
girl, she was raped by her stepfather and subjected to the nocturnal
spitting ritual, so in the War on Drugs she has become one of the
enemy. — Gabor Mate

Why do you look?" I mutter.
I half expect Magiano to tease me, spitting back one of his sarcastic phrases. But he doesn't smile. "We are drawn to stories," he says in a soft voice, "and every scar carries one." He lifts a hand and places his palm gently against the ruined side of my face, covering the scar.
I look down, embarrassed now. Instinctively, I reach up to brush some of my hair over my face - only to remember that I no longer have long locks.
"Hiding it makes you more beautiful," Magiano says. Then he takes his hand away, exposing my scar again. "But revealing it makes you you." He nods at me. "So wear it proudly. — Marie Lu

Indira was surrounded by people who had given up hope, who blamed their own misery on the influence of Christianity and western cultures, and yet, literally in the midst of squalor, her family had created a place of real beauty. It really makes you stop and think. Uncle Google should be spitting out eight hundred million things American schools have done right. The fact things are so screwed up makes no sense. If you believe Uncle Google, then we've done the exact opposite from Indira's family - in the land of hope and plenty we've created a place that's ugly. We have so much. Can things really be so bad? Maybe we can't fix our schools because as individuals we've never truly been broken. Or maybe Chinese lanterns make everyone wax philosophical. — Tucker Elliot

Many is the night I have sat by the roaring river the rain never ending them logs so green bubbling and spitting blazing in a rage no rain can staunch. — Peter Carey

You may not realize this, brother, but Izzy is loyal to me. So don't make me unleash her on you."
"And now you're making fun of me," Izzy complained.
"No. It's a serious threat," Celyn admitted. "Used by many in the family. Especially Briec. He loves threatening those who annoy him - "
"Which is everyone," Brannie stated while grabbing the last loaf of bread and tearing it into three pieces.
" - with his beautiful eldest daughter who will rip the scales from your back and tear the still-beating heart from your chest before spitting on your corpse."
Izzy put her hand to her chest, her voice trembling as she fought tears. "That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. — G.A. Aiken

The boundary line between self and external world bears no relation to reality; the distinction between ego and world is made by spitting out part of the inside, and swallowing in part of the outside. — Norman O. Brown

God is not needed to create guilt or to punish. Our fellow men suffice, aided by ourselves. You were speaking of the Last Judgement. Allow me to laugh respectfully. I shall wait for it resolutely, for I have known what is worse, the judgement of men. For them, no extenuating circumstances; even the good intention is ascribed to crime. Have you at least heard of the spitting cell, which a nation recently thought up to prove itself the greatest on earth? A walled-up box in which the prisoner can stand without moving. The solid door that locks him in the cement shell stops at chin level. Hence only his face is visible, and every passing jailer spits copiously on it. The prisoner, wedged into his cell, cannot wipe his face, though he is allowed, it is true. to close his eyes. Well, that, mon cher, is a human invention. They didn't need God for that little masterpiece. — Albert Camus

You are still young and stupid. Human life has no value. Haven't you learned that yet, Takeshi, with all you've seen? It has no value, intrinsic to itself. Machines cost money to build. Raw materials cost money to extract. But people?" She made a tiny spitting sound. "You can always get some more people. they reproduce like cancer cells, whether you want them or not. They are abundant, Takeshi. Why should they be valuable? Do you know that it costs us less to recruit and use up a real snuff whore than it does to set up and run the virtual equivalent format. Real human flesh is cheaper than a machine. It's the axiomatic truth of our times. — Richard K. Morgan

Now before we get into anything, ladies, no scratching, no spitting and no tattling to mummy. — Eoin Colfer

No, I'd probably end up spitting it out over everybody. — Prince Philip

The taste of rotting, waxen oranges slid across my tongue, paying no attention to the fact that I was chewing on a wad of spearmint gum. Gran called it arrah-an aura. I was calling it danger candy nowadays. I always felt like spitting it out, but spitting would only make it worse.
Plus, spitting on a dance floor is damn rude. I was raised better. — Lili St. Crow