Pissant Quotes & Sayings

A pissant does his best to make you feel like a boob all the time. — Kurt Vonnegut

Don't let your elders and supposed betters tell you any different. Sure, you've never been to Paris. No, you never ran with the bulls at Pamploma. Yes, you're a pissant who had no hair in your armpits until three years ago - but so what? If you don't start out too big for your britches, how are you gonna fill 'em when you grow up? Let it rip regardless of what anybody tells you, that's my idea; sit down an smoke that baby. — Stephen King

He's an undersized pissant with delusions of adequacy. — Lois Greiman

Say that again, Tony," Jude warned, his jaw clenched, "and the only thing I'll be throwing at your pinhead again will be my boot."
"What?" Tony said. "Telling the truth about Adriana panting in heat for you?"
"No, shithead," Jude said, notes of anger slipping between his teeth. "Call my girl 'love' again. Shes's mine. I get to call her that. Not some pissant jerk-off with a big mouth. — Nicole Williams

You can't order me away, you pissant human--"
"I just did." Kas swept past him... — Susan Scott

A pissant is somebody who thinks he's so damn smart, he can never keep his mouth shut. No matter what anybody says, he's got to argue with it. You say you like something, and, by God, he'll tell you why you're wrong to like it. A pissant does his best to make you feel like a boob all the time. No matter what you say, he knows better. — Kurt Vonnegut

The world is MADE up of language. We can SAY that the world is composed of little demons doing calisthenics, each one the size of a pissant's eyebrow ... Or we can SAY the world is made of tiny wave mechanical packets of matter hurling through space at near the speed of light ... But notice that what we get each time are WORDS ... — Terence McKenna

Hapscomb's Texaco sat on Number 93 just north of Arnette, a pissant four-street burg about 110 miles from Houston. — Stephen King

Sunset was only thirty minutes gone when some pissant vampire waylaid Deacon on his way to Theriault's. One of those younger shits who wrote poetry to Mother Darkness and thought becoming a vampire would make him sparkle. — Meljean Brook