I don’t like peas, and I’m glad I don’t like them, because if I liked them I would eat them and I hate them.
QUENTIN CRISPOur clothes are too much a part of us for most of us ever to be entirely indifferent to their condition: it is as though the fabric were indeed a natural extension of the body, or even of the soul.
More Quentin Crisp Quotes
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Health consists of having the same diseases as one’s neighbors.
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Never keep up with the Joneses. Drag them down to your level.
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The key is never, never work. Nothing is more aging than work. It’s not only the strain of getting up in the morning for work, but it’s the resentment that settles on your face
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I never spend my time doing anything I’ll have to do again tomorrow.
QUENTIN CRISP -
You fall out of your mother’s womb, you crawl across open country under fire, and drop into your grave.
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Keeping up with the Joneses was a full-time job with my mother and father. It was not until many years later when I lived alone that I realized how much cheaper it was to drag the Joneses down to my level.
QUENTIN CRISP -
To love another person you have to undertake some fragment of their destiny.
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My mother protected me from the world and my father threatened me with it.
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Is not the whole world a vast house of assignation of which the filing system has been lost?
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One should always be wary of anyone who promises that their love will last longer than a weekend.
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I like living in one room and have never known what people do with the room they are not in.
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I would have run all the way and I would have gone up to the largest and leatheriest of the denizens and said: If you truly love me, kill the bartender.
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Fashion is not style. Nay, we can say more: Fashion is instead of style. Style is an idiom springing spontaneously from the personality but deliberately maintained.
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Men get laid, but women get screwed.
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He knew them only ‘in Braille’ – the curtains were never drawn back in the rooms in Oxford where he met those boys. It was the most sordid life you can imagine. And he was bleating about love and dragging the fair name of Mr. Plato into the trial – after a life like that?
QUENTIN CRISP






