I was sixteen and my mother was about to throw me out of the house forever, for breaking a very big rule, even bigger than the forbidden books. The rule was not just No Sex, but definitely No Sex With Your Own Sex.
I think there is sexy. And then there's tacky sexy. When you're young, you can get away with tacky sexy. I mean, it's not even tacky when you're young. But when you get older, it's just tacky.
The one ironclad rule is that I have to try. I have to walk into my writing room and pick up my pen every weekday morning.
The one ironclad rule is that I have to try. I have to walk into my writing room and pick up my pen every weekday morning
It is...highly probable that from the very beginning, apart from death, the only ironclad rule of human experience has been the Law of Unintended Consequences.
Unicorns are not to be forgiven." The magician felt himself growing giddy with jealousy, not only of the touch but of something like a secret that was moving between Molly and the unicorn. "Unicorns are for beginnings," he said, "for innocence and purity, for newness. Unicorns are for young girls." Molly was stroking the unicorn's throat as timidly as though she were blind. She dried her grimy tears on the white mane. "You don't know much about unicorns," she said.
I believe that great weirdness stalks the universe. That's not the issue with me, but it is not tacky. It is not tacky.
The unicorns happened because I legitimately enjoy unicorns; as a kid, one of my favorite movies was called 'The Last Unicorn.'
I myself have not met a self?confessed liberal since the late fifties (and even then it was a tacky thing to admit, like coming from the middle class or the Middle West, those two gloomy seedbeds of talent), yet hardly a day passes that I don't read another attack on the “typical liberal” — as it might be announcing a pest of dinosaurs or a plague of unicorns.
You’re allowed to believe in a god. You’re allowed to believe unicorns live in your shoes for all I care. But the day you start telling me how to wear my shoes so I don’t upset the unicorns, I have a problem with you. The day you start involving the unicorns in making decisions for this country, I have a BIG problem with you.
If you had a daily printout from the brain of an average twenty-four-year-old male, it would probably go like this: sex, need coffee, sex, traffic, sex, sex, what an asshole, sex, ham sandwich, sex, sex, etc
Wherever they may have come from, and wherever they may have gone,
unicorns live inside the true believer's heart.
Which means as long as we can dream, there will be unicorns.
We're not going to have a party when half of our friends... can't do that thing we're doing. We're not going to ask them to come celebrate a right they don't have. That's just tacky! Forget like anything else, it's like really tacky for us
In your thirties, you're much more comfortable with sex. First of all, sex is something you've done more. You know you can have sex just to have sex; you can have sex with friends; you can have sex with people you love; you can have sex with people you don't like, but the sex is good. And you can joke about sex much more.
Children know perfectly well that unicorns aren’t real, but they also know that books about unicorns, if they are good books, are true books.
There's definitely a thin line between being tasteful and tacky. I feel like tasteful is very unique...it's not necessarily wearing a bunch of chains - that could be either tasteful or tacky. It just depends on how you wear them and what kind of chains they are.