A Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

Call me Jonah. My parents did, or nearly did. They called me John. — © Kurt Vonnegut
Call me Jonah. My parents did, or nearly did. They called me John.
Senator Badger did not call. During the whole of the last session of Congress, he did not call on me. He is a bitter partisan and is no doubt sensible that during the presidential canvass of 1844, he did me gross injustice.
My parents did call me Zowie now and then, but then, realising that it drew too much attention, they called me 'Joe'. Then, later, I sort-of co-opted my own name back.
My sister's asthmatic. In the middle of an asthma attack she got an obscene phone call. The guy said, "Did I call you or did you call me?"
What parents and teachers and caregivers did with me that actually worked and a lot of that was the old fashion 50s upbringing. They just gave the instruction when I did something wrong - life was more structured. So basically it's [my work] based on experiences with me that worked and it was teachers and parents that made me have those experiences.
I actually did do a musical many years ago with John Waters called Cry-Baby, but technically it was only half me - it wasn't me singing. Tim's [ Burton] the only person brave enough to actually let me try to sing.
Even after they fired me, called me a bigot and publicly advised me to only share my thoughts with a psychiatrist, I did not call for defunding NPR. I am a journalist, and NPR is an important platform for journalism.
I was always in places where I was widely accepted, approved and loved and I was finally in a place where people did not approve of me, did not accept me and did not love me. It was killing me.
I'm a cop, and cops talk. They called me the day he did it, but did you ever hear me say anything about it? I played ball, because that's how I am. I'm true.
I did a film in Nairobi, Kenya called 'The Last Elephant,' with John Lithgow, Isabella Rosallini, and James Earl Jones. So I was in seventh heaven, alright? About a year later I get a call from my agent and he says they want to see you for this project called Candyman. I thought he was joking so I hung up.
If you'd bothered to ask me, Clark, if you'd bothered to consult me just once about this so-called fun outing of ours, I could have told you. I hate horses, and horse racing. Always have. But you didn't bother to ask me. You decided what you thought you'd like me to do, and you went ahead and did it. You did what everyone else does. You decided for me.
I did a play I think my first six months on the show, called Bullpen. Then I got involved with Theater Forty and did this play called Plastic which is about two male models coming to a casting call.
I can't save you like that Ty. What you did to me wasn't this brilliant thing, like you think it was. You took me away from everything - my parents, my friends, my life. You took me to the sand and the heat, the dirt and isolation. And you expected me to love you. And that's the hardest bit. Because I did, or at least, I loved something out there. But I hated you too. I can't forget that.
During those long years in Oakland public schools, I did not have one teacher who taught me anything relevant to my own life or experience. Not one instructor ever awoke in me a desire to learn more or to question or to explore the worlds of literature, science, and history. All they did was try to rob me of the sense of my own uniqueness and worth, and in the process nearly killed my urge to inquire.
I wouldn't listen to my parents, but I found out that I absorbed. I never heard what they said - told me - but I did what they did.
Did He give me the gift of love to say who I could choose? When God made me did He give me the gift of voice so some could silence me? Did he give me the gift of vision not knowing what I might see? Did he give me the gift of compassion to help my fellow man?
Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" "If I did?
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