Breakfast Of Champions Quotes

To me, peanut butter is the breakfast of champions!

Although Kurt Vonnegut may not be considered a humor writer, 'Breakfast of Champions' is one of the funniest books I've ever read.

Vicodin and vodka the breakfast of champion's.

The waitress brought me another drink. She wanted to light my hurricane lamp again. I wouldn't let her. "Can you see anything in the dark, with your sunglasses on?" she asked me. "The big show is inside my head," I said.

I can't tell if you're serious or not,' said the driver. I won't know myself until I find out if life is serious or not,' said Trout. 'It's dangerous, I know, and it can hurt a lot. That doesn't necessarily mean it's serious, too.

Charm was a scheme for making strangers like and trust a person immediately, no matter what the charmer had in mind.

The planet was being destroyed by manufacturing processes, and what was being manufactured was lousy, by and large.

The big show is inside my head.

Sometimes I wonder about the Creator of the Universe.

New knowledge is the most valuable commodity on earth. The more truth we have to work with, the richer we become.

Trout was petrified there on Forty-second Street. It had given him a life not worth living, but I had also given him an iron will to live. This was a common combination on the planet Earth.

Earthlings went on being friendly, when they should have been thinking instead.

We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane.

I can have oodles of charm when I want to.

I couldn't help wondering if that was what God put me on Earth for--to find out how much a man could take without breaking.

Roses are red, And ready for plucking, You're sixteen, And ready for high school.

You are pooped and demoralised,” read Dwayne. “Why wouldn’t you be? Of course it is exhausting, having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn’t meant to be reasonable.

What is the purpose of life?...To be the eyes and ears and conscience of the Creator of the Universe, you fool!

Why were so many Americans treated by their government as though their lives were as disposable as facial tissues? Because that was the way authors customarily treated bit-part players in their made-up tales.

Symbols can be so beautiful, sometimes.

Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast. They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement. Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.

People took such awful chances with chemicals and their bodies because they wanted the quality of their lives to improve. They lived in ugly places where there were only ugly things to do. They didn't own doodley-squat, so they couldn't improve their surroundings. so they did their best to make their insides beautiful instead.

There is no order in the world around us, we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead.

Seems like the only kind of job an American can get these days is committing suicide in some way.

So, in the interests of survival, they trained themselves to be agreeing machines instead of thinking machines. All their minds had to do was to discover what other people were thinking, and then they thought that, too.

Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery.

Feedback is the breakfast of champions.

The Breakfast of Champions isn't cereal, it's the competition!

Ideas on earth were badges of friendship or enimity. Their content did not matter. Friends agreed with friends, in order to express friendliness. Enemies disagreed with enemies, in order to express enimity.

The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.

The arts are not a way to make a living.

To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it.

Armistice Day has become Veterans' Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans' Day is not.

Armistice Day has become Veterans' Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans' Day is not. So I will throw Veterans' Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don't want to throw away any sacred things. What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance. And all music is.

All the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month. It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.

The best blended Scotch in the history of the world - which was also the favourite drink of the Iraqi Baath Party, as it still is of the Palestinian Authority and the Libyan dictatorship and large branches of the Saudi Arabian royal family - is Johnnie Walker Black. Breakfast of champions, accept no substitute.

The proper ending for any story about people it seems to me, since life is now a polymer in which the Earth is wrapped so tightly, should be the same abbreviation, which I now write large because I feel like it, which is this one: ETC.