Quotes by Thomm Quackenbush

Is there a term for when you are only gay for the top half of someone?”“I think that makes you bisect-ual.

She hated anyone who clung to the supernatural when the natural was perfectly serviceable.

Every weekend, I fall in love again. By Sunday, the last thing I want to do is let her go, release her back into the cold water of life.

If he had to spend the evening with madwomen, he would prefer at least one of them be willing to let him grope her.

[T]hese friends were of the female persuasion, and while by and large they were bi and large, they still represented potential threats on [her] feminine radar.

Society tells my students that people like them should aspire to prison the same way I understood I would go to college. They only listen to media that reinforces what they’ve been told all their lives: that they are worthless and that they will die or be incarcerated before they reach twenty-five.

But aliens? There are TV shows about them. There are books and movies and more. The media indoctrinates you to them until people are so desensitized they dont flinch at seeing aliens on TV or having their children buy plastic versions for a quarter.

There werent always happy endings and children would do well to know that vile things could happen to them, that witches and wolves were desperate to steal them should they be disobedient or foolish or simply unlucky.

My mother buys a handful of wishing beans, which just seem to be white, dry beans with no specific magickal import. She will parse these out over the months when she feels her family members most need a wish. She can believe in wishes, since it is the familiar magic of wells, birthdays, and first stars.

It is not easy to find someone your size once the Freshman Fifteen turns to the Sophomore Forty or the Senior Sixty. Even when, through some miracle of self-restraint and bulimia, college girls managed to continue to have feminine bodies, so many of these tacky sluts have never heard word one about what fashion entails.

Having spent all of my decision-making years as a Pagan of one stripe or another, I have long found it condescending at best to assume one cannot worship the old gods or believe in magick without breaking out the leather bracers, wings, or Ye Broken Olde English.

If you cant feel the touch of the gods on your own, it greatly behooves you to work on that before some lecher tells you his touch is just as good.

The gods preferring their libations diluted with rainwater and mixed with freshly cut grass.

Everyone you meet is an aspect of the gods and has a lesson to teach you.

Ghosts are some of the loneliest people you will ever meet.

I’m a holiday Christian at best and I’d never given much thought to demons. They were an adult version of the boogieman hiding in every kid’s closet.

I do not imagine I will ever cling to her like she is the last handhold on an otherwise sheer cliff. I have wings. I am ever here in this moment because she is where I want to be. She is not some inanimate savior, she has wings of her own to flutter and soar. I intend to fly beside her, to tumble through the air in loops and gambols, to carry her when she grows tired, to keep her warm beneath them against raging winds.

Once everyone thought you were crazy, they ignored you even when you told the truth.

I cannot think who my residents hurt but how I can give them tools to remain on the right side of civilization.

I mean every word of my divine chaos.