102 Quotes by John Kennedy Toole

Suddenly Mrs. Reilly remembered the horrible night that she and Mr. Reilly had gone to Prytania to see Clark Gable and Jean Harlow in ‘Red Dust.’ In the heat and confusion that had followed their return home, nice Mr. Reilly had tried one of his indirect approaches, and Ignatius was conceived. Poor Mr. Reilly. He had never gone to another movie as long as he lived.

Over the years I have become very good at getting out of things I don’t want to do.

Here at any rate is Ignatius Reilly, without progenitor in any literature I know of – slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one – who is in violent revolt against the entire modern age, lying in his flannel nightshirt, in a back bedroom on Constantinople Street in New Orleans, who between gigantic seizures of flatulence and eructations is filling dozens of Big Chief tablets with invective.

She appears to have been knocked a bit in her life already. Up rather than down. If she ever nears me, however, the direction will be reversed.

Perhaps the experience can give my writing a new dimension. Being actively engaged in the system which I criticize will be an interesting irony in itself.

I consider the trumpet a good investment, although our neighbor, Miss Annie, does not. If she beats on my shutters again, I’ll pour water on her.

This is clearly a case for the Civil Liberties Union,” Ignatius observed, squeezing his mother’s drooping shoulder with the paw. “We must contact Myrna Minkoff, my lost love. She knows about those things.

No wonder you’ve turned on me so savagely. I suspect that you are using me as a scapegoat for your own feelings of guilt.

How come God has to make it so tough for you?” “We must not question His ways,” Ignatius said. “Maybe not, but I still don’t get it.” “The writings of Boethius may give you some insight.” “I read Father Keller and Billy Graham in the paper every single day.” “Oh, my God!” Ignatius spluttered. “No wonder you are so lost.