Parasites Quotes

Quotes tagged as "parasites" (showing 1-23 of 23)
Michael Bassey Johnson
“Stay away from lazy parasites, who perch on you just to satisfy their needs, they do not come to alleviate your burdens, hence, their mission is to distract, detract and extract, and make you live in abject poverty.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

William S. Burroughs
“Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage.”
William S. Burroughs

Stephenie Meyer
“We value the individual. We probably put too much emphasis on the individual, if it comes right down to it. How many people, in the abstract, would...let's say Paige....how many people would she sacrifice to keep Andy alive? The answer wouldn't make any sense if you were looking at the whole of humanity as equals.”
Stephenie Meyer, The Host

Stefan Molyneux
“There's a huge swath of humanity that has developed verbal abilities to extract resources from guilt-ridden people.
They used to be priests, and now they're leftists.”
Stefan Molyneux

Scott Westerfeld
“I'm not the one going for a biology degree. I'm just a philosophy major who eats people.”
Scott Westerfeld, Peeps

Daniel Suarez
“But if they're so successful, why haven't parasites taken over the world? The answer is simple: they have. We just haven't noticed. That's because successful parasites don't kill us; they become part of us, making us perform all the work to keep them alive and help them reproduce.”
Daniel Suarez, Daemon

Scott Westerfeld
“The Shrink always warned me that carriers stay wracked with lifelong guilt. It's not an uplifting thing having turned lovers into monsters. We feel bad that we haven't turned into monsters ourselves--survivor's guilt, that's called. And we feel a bit stupid that we didn't notice our own symptoms earlier. I mean, I'd been sort of wondering why the Atkins diet was giving me night vision. But that hadn't seemed like something to worry about...”
Scott Westerfeld, Peeps

William Beckford
“..parasites seldom altogether abandon a monarch so long as the crown still glitters on his head. (“The Story of Prince Alasi and the Princess Firouzkah”)”
William Beckford, The Episodes of Vathek

Jeffrey Tucker
“Even the richest person, provided the riches comes from mutually beneficial exchange, does not need to give anything "back" to the community, because this person took nothing out of the community. Indeed, the reverse is true: Enterprises give to the community. Their owners take huge risks, and front the money for investment, precisely with the goal of serving others. Their riches are signs that they have achieved their aims.”
Jeffrey Tucker

Carl Zimmer
“From Lankaster to Lorenz, scientists have gotten it wrong. Parasites are complex, highly adapted creatures that are at the heart of the story of life. If there hadn't been such high walls dividing scientists who study life - the zoologists, the immunologists, the mathematical biologists, the ecologists - parasites might have been recognized sooner as not disgusting, or at least not merely disgusting. If parasites were so feeble, so lazy, how was it that they could manage to live inside every free-living species and infect billions of people? How could they change with time so that medicines that could once treat them became useless? How could parasites defy vaccines, which could corral brutal killers like smallpox and polio?”
Carl Zimmer, Parasite Rex: Inside the Bizarre World of Nature's Most Dangerous Creatures

Carl William Brown
“Repetita iuvant. Italy, a land of great saints, poets, sailors, artists, statesmen, businessmen, lawyers, intellectuals, professors, journalists, whores, gangsters, religious parasites and dickheads.”
Carl William Brown, L'Italia in breve.

“...man is as much a parasite on the cow as the tapeworm is on man: We have sucked their udders like leeches. "Man the cow parasite" is probably how non-man defines man in his zoology books”
Unbearable Lightness of Being

Ayn Rand
“There might be some sort of justification for the savage societies in which a man had to expect that enemies could murder him at any moment and had to defend himself as best as he could. But there can be no justification for a society in which a man is expected to manufacture the weapons for his own murderers.”
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Friedrich Nietzsche
“The craft, trade, agriculture, science, a large part of the art - all this can only stand on a broad base , on a consolidated, strong and healthy mediocrity. Served in their services and the science of their work - and even the arts. We cannot wish for better: it belongs to such an average sort of person - it is under displace exceptions - it has nothing aristocratic about something and still les in their anarchic instincts - The power of the center is then held upright by the trade, especially the money market: the instinct of great financiers goes against all extremes, - the Jews are the reason for the time being conserve power in our so insecure and threatened Europe.”
Friedrich Nietzsche, Writings from the Late Notebooks

“The damn vermin are so numerous that I am afraid to sneeze, for fear the damned lice would regard it as gong for dinner, and eat me up - Robert Cobb Kennedy”
Tobin T. Buhk, True Crime in the Civil War: Cases of Murder, Treason, Counterfeiting, Massacre, Plunder & Abuse

Michael  Grant
“Hunter’s dead,” Taylor said without preamble. “It was these . . . these things. They came crawling up out of him and were eating him, oh God, I mean, it was like . . . I mean he was crying and Dekka prayed with him and he tried to fry his own brain just like he did with Harry only I guess it didn’t work, I guess he couldn’t do it, so Sam . . .” She swallowed. “Anyone have some water?”
“What about Sam?” Astrid demanded.
“He did it for him. Sam. I mean, he . . . Hunter was, you know . . . so Sam.” She pantomimed raising her hands, like Sam, like he would do when using his power.
Astrid closed her eyes and crossed herself.
“Rest in peace,” Edilio said and crossed himself as well.
“Sam burned the boy?” Howard asked. Then, bitterly sarcastic said, “Yeah, you all pray to Jesus. Because Jesus is really providing a lot of help here. Sounds to me like Sam was the one doing what had to be done.”
Michael Grant, Plague

“Dr.Costa then offered important clues to differentiate the syndrome from polio. in tick paralysis there is no fever, the spinal fluod is normal, the knee jerk and other reflexes are lost early, the patient is passive and apathetic, and, of course, the child has had a recent tick bite, or an attached tick is found.”
Pamela Nagami, Bitten: True Medical Stories of Bites and Stings

Michael  Grant
“Hunter woke suddenly. A noise.
It was a noise unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Close! Very close.
Like it was on him. Like it was . . .
Just in one ear.
He twisted his head. It was full night. Black as black in the woods far from the starlight.
He couldn’t see anything.
But with his hands he could feel. The thing on his shoulder.
His ear . . . gone!
A terrible fear wrung a cry of horror from Hunter.
He couldn’t feel it, his ear, or his shoulder, couldn’t feel with anything but his fingers and he felt, reached beneath his shirt, felt the flesh of his belly pulse and heave.
Like something inside him.
No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!
He was Hunter. The hunter. He was doing his best.
He cried. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Who would bring meat for all the kids?
It wasn’t fair.
The sound of munching, crunching started again. Just in one ear.
Hunter had only one weapon: the heat-causing power in his hands. He had used it many, many times to take the life of prey.
He had fed the kids with that power. And in a moment of fear and rage he had accidentally taken the life of his friend, Harry.
Maybe he could kill the thing that was eating his ear.
But it was too late for that to help.
Could he kill himself?
He saw Old Lion’s head, eyes closed, hanging where he’d hung him for skinning. If Old Lion could die, so could Hunter.
Maybe they would meet again, up in the sky.
Hunter pressed both palms against his head.”
Michael Grant, Plague

Daniel Suarez
“Perfect replication is the enemy of any robust system... Lacking a central nervous system—much less a brain—the parasite is a simple system designed to compromise a very specific target host. The more uniform the host, the more effective the infestation.”
Daniel Suarez

Michael  Grant
“Hunter’s entire body writhed and squirmed.
The side of his head was partly gone. A creature, like some monstrous melding of insect and eel, protruded from Hunter’s shoulder and as they stood there rooted in horror it took a vicious bite of Hunter’s flesh.
Taylor was suddenly gone.
Dekka’s face was grim, her eyes wet.
“I tried . . . ,” Hunter said. He held up his hands, mimicked pressing them against his head. “It didn’t work.”
“I can do it,” Sam said softly.
“I’m scared,” Hunter said.
“I know.”
“It’s ’cause I killed Harry. God has to punish me. I tried to be good but I’m bad.”
“No, Hunter,” Sam said gently. “You paid your dues. You fed the kids. You’re a good guy.”
“I’m a good hunter.”
“The best.”
“I don’t know what’s happening. What’s happening, Sam?”
“It’s just the FAYZ, Hunter,” Sam said.
“Can the angels find me here so I can go to heaven?”
Sam didn’t answer. It was Dekka who spoke. “Do you still remember any prayers, Hunter?”
The insectlike creature was almost completely emerged from Hunter’s shoulder. Legs were becoming visible. It had wings folded against its body. It looked like a gigantic ant, or wasp, but silver and brass and covered with a sheen of slime.
It was emerging like a chicken breaking out of an egg. Being born. And as the creature was born, it fed on Hunter’s numbed body.
Jerky movements beneath Hunter’s shirt testified to more of the larvae emerging.
“Do you remember ‘now I lay me down to sleep’?” Dekka asked.
“Now I lay me down to sleep,” Hunter said. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
Sam raised his hands, palms out.
“If I should die—”
Twin beams of light hit Hunter’s chest and face. His shirt caught fire. Flesh melted. He was dead before he could feel anything.
Sam played the light up and down Hunter’s body. The smell was sickening. Jack wanted to look away, but how could he?
Sudden darkness as Sam terminated the light.
Sam lowered his hands to his side.
They stood there in the darkness. Jack breathed through his mouth, trying not to smell the burned flesh.
Then they heard a sound. Many sounds.
Sam raised his hands and pale light glowed.
Hunter was all but gone.
The things that had been inside him were still there.”
Michael Grant, Plague

Michael  Grant
“Roscoe had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. He awoke to find persistent itching on his stomach. He scratched it through his T-shirt.
He went back to sleep. But dreams kept him from sleeping soundly. That and the itching.
He woke again and felt the itchy spot. There was a lump there. Like a swelling. And when he held still and pressed his fingers against the spot he could feel something moving under the skin.
The small room was suddenly very cold. Roscoe shivered.
He went to the window hoping for light. There was a moon but the light was faint. Roscoe pulled his shirt over his head. He looked down at the spot on his stomach.
It was moving. The flesh itself. He could feel it under his fingertips. Like something poking back at him. But he couldn’t feel it from the inside, couldn’t feel it in his stomach. And he realized that his entire body was numb. He could feel with his fingertips but not the skin of his stomach—
The skin split!
“Ahhhh!”
He was touching it as it split, and he shrieked in terror and something pushed its way out through a bloodless hole.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, no no no no!”
Roscoe screamed and leaped for the door. His hand clawed at the knob as he babbled and wept and the door was locked, locked, oh, God, no, they had locked him in.
He banged at the door, but it was the middle of the night. Who would hear him in the empty town hall?
“Hey! Hey! Is anyone there? Help me. Help me. Please, please, someone help me!”
He banged and the thing in his belly stuck out half an inch. He was scared to look at it. But he did and he screamed again because it was a mouth now, a gnashing insect mouth full of parts like no normal mouth. Hooked, wicked mandibles clicked. It was inside him, chewing its way out.
Hatching from him.
“Help me, help me, don’t leave me here like this!”
But who would hear him? Sinder? No. Not anymore. That was over. All over. And he was alone and friendless. No one even to hear as he screamed and begged.
The window. He grabbed the pillow from his bed and pushed it against the glass and then punched it hard. The pane shattered. He took off his shoe and smashed at the starred glass until most of it fell tinkling to the street below.
Then he screamed for help. Screamed into the Perdido Beach night air.
No answer.
“Help me! Please, please, oh, God, please help me! You can’t just leave me locked up!”
But still, no answer.
Fear took hold of him, deep crazy-making fear.
No. No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, he hadn’t done anything awful. Why? Why was this happening to him?
Roscoe fell to his knees and begged God. God, please, no, no, no, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t brave or strong but I wasn’t bad, either. Not like this, please, God, no no no, not like this.
Roscoe felt an itching in the middle of his back.
He sat down and cried.”
Michael Grant, Plague

Douglas Preston
“Perhaps the ghastliest disease endemic to mosquitia is Mucocutaneous Leishmaniasis, sometimes called white leprosy, caused by the bite of an infected sand fly. The Leishmania parasite migrates to the mucus membranes of the victim's nose and lips and eats them away, eventually creating a giant, weeping sore where the face used to be.”
Douglas Preston, The Lost City of the Monkey God: A True Story

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
“Now he'd be standing behind the layers, watching. if there was one thing Shukhov couldn't endure, it was these spectators. Trying to wangle himself an engineer's job, the pig-faced bastard. Started showing me how to lay blocks once. Laughed myself sick. Till you've built one house with your own hands, you're no engineer. That's how I see it.”
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn