A Quote by Margaret Laurence

Why doesn't Prin go and get her own goddamn blistering bloody shitty jelly doughnuts? — © Margaret Laurence
Why doesn't Prin go and get her own goddamn blistering bloody shitty jelly doughnuts?
It's terrifying to think about all things that were awful for you. But for me, sharing all of them was so satisfying, because people read them and get to go, "Oh, okay, I don't have to feel so shitty about that," or maybe even, "Why was I feeling so shitty about that? I should own that and learn from that." Those are the sorts of stories I want to tell.
I was asked to go in a banana suit once or eat as many doughnuts as possible. I would not do those things. I don't eat doughnuts so why would I eat 20.
I worship scones and danishes. If I never had another meal, I wouldn't care as long as I could eat pastries and jelly doughnuts.
I was just shitty, shitty, shitty with money and I finally, when I really started making money, I had to get somebody to sit down with me and learn how to manage my money.
Being sad and going out on terrible dates and having horrible breakups and then having a shitty job and then quitting the shitty job and then wondering if you shouldn't have quit the shitty job and then getting a new shitty job that you get fired off of after six weeks, it's all so good for your writing.
It's bloody tough, bloody painful, trying to get sober on your own.
Adult librarians are like lazy bakers: their patrons want a jelly doughnut, so they give them a jelly doughnut. Children’s librarians are ambitious bakers: 'You like the jelly doughnut? I’ll get you a jelly doughnut. But you should try my cruller, too. My cruller is gonna blow your mind, kid.
We need a new law that owners of SUVs (Sport Utility Vehicles) are automatically in the military reserve. Then they can go get their own goddamn oil.
It felt good to be writing in her own room, in her own bed. To get lost in the World of Mages and stay lost. To not hear any voices in her head but Simon's and Baz's. Not even her own. This was why Cath wrote fic. For these hours when their world supplanted the real world.
Me, I want to bloody kick this moronic bloody world in the bloody teeth over and over till it bloody understands that not hurting people is ten bloody thousand times more bloody important than being right.
We kill the women. We kill the babies. We kill the blind. We kill the cripples. We kill them all.... When you get through killing them all, go to the goddamn graveyard and kill them a-goddamn-gain because they didn't die hard enough.
We do not pull in and fill up. And I'll tell you why we don't. It's because I don't buy one goddamn drop of gas in the state of Michigan. We'll coast and push this goddamn car to the Ohio line before I give this state a nickel of my money.
You read about poor people having Botox go wrong and you think: 'Well, what the bloody hell were you doing?' Why would you inject yourself with poison? And why are we spending so much time looking at ourselves? I just don't get it.
When I get home and people ask me,'Hey, Hoot, why do you do it, man? What are you? Some kind of war junkie? I won't say a goddamn word. Why? They won't understand. They won't understand why we do it. They won't understand that it's about the men next to you. And that's it. That's all it is.
I was going to go to church, but I decided to get doughnuts instead.
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only one you can get yelled at for having. Goddamn it Otto, you are an alcoholic. Goddamn it Otto, you have Lupus... one of those two doesn't sound right.
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