Quote preview background for Fisher Amelie
Ask yourself something. Have you ever thought about why guys want you gone the next day? It__ not because they__e got things to do, though I__ sure there are a few assholes who think like that, either because they repeated the folly so often they learned to bury the guilt or because they didn__ have a conscience to begin with but, truthfully, it__ because they can__ stand to look at the reason they feel a hole in their chest. They don__ like reminders of who helped put that sick feeling in the pits of their stomachs. As long as they had a decent mama, the guilt is always substantial. Always. If they say differently, they__e liars." - Spencer Blackwell, GREED
Fisher Amelie Greed
Turn into a Quote Card

Quote Detail

Ask yourself something. Have you ever thought about why guys want you gone the next day? It__ not because they__e got things to do, though I__ sure there are a few assholes who think like that, either because they repeated the folly so often they learned to bury the guilt or because they didn__ have a conscience to begin with but, truthfully, it__ because they can__ stand to look at the reason they feel a hole in their chest. They don__ like reminders of who helped put that sick feeling in the pits of their stomachs. As long as they had a decent mama, the guilt is always substantial. Always. If they say differently, they__e liars." - Spencer Blackwell, GREED

Quick Answer

What this quote page tells you

This canonical quote page keeps the full saying, the attributed author, any linked work, and the topic tags together so the quote can be cited from one stable URL.

Related Quotes

More quote cards from the same area

"

The stuff of nightmare is their plain bread. They butter it with pain. They set their clocks by deathwatch beetles, and thrive the centuries. They were the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids seasoning it with other people's salt and other people's cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers at half-price in the grand March sale. Some must have been lazing clowns, foot props for emperors, princes, and epileptic popes. Then out on the road, Gypsies in time, their populations grew as the world grew, spread, and there was more delicious variety of pain to thrive on. The train put wheels under them and here they run down the log road out of the Gothic and baroque; look at their wagons and coaches, the carving like medieval shrines, all of it stuff once drawn by horses, mules, or, maybe, men.

RB
Ray Bradbury

Something Wicked This Way Comes