Victorian Psycho Quotes

“I fail to understand why men think violence will intimidate women. Women, who bleed all over themselves every month, who rub blood clots between their fingers and burst them like insects, and sometimes can't because they're not blood clots, they're tongue-coloured strings of meat from the womb. Women who burst open in childbirth, vagina splitting and anus sagging, tiny, hardening fingernails clawing inside of them, placentas like thick filet mignon.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Inside me, my Darkness rests within my rib-cage, a jailed animal grown lazy from lack of exercise. I have not felt my soul for a very long time. It may have slipped out, unbeknownst to me. I've seen other lose their shame of dignity in this way.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“It fascinates me, the fact that human have the capacity to mortally wound one another at will, but for the most part, choose not to.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“When faced with the inexplicable, humans will find ways of explaining most horrors away.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“At eight thirty sharp breakfast is removed, as is my will to live.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“It is early fall, the cold is beginning to descend, and in three months everyone in this house will be dead.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Satisfied that there are no monsters but the ones I carry inside me.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“The shade is "Mummy Brown." If mummified Egyptians had known they were fated to be pulverized to produce an umber for such a mediocre painter, they surely would have chosen other burial options.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Women! Theatrical bitches.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“She is now of an age when she risks her fertility from the ravages of overeducation. Says so in the Times.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Within the locker is a chalk-and-crayon likeness of the lecherous painter, most likely of his own creation, for it is substandard.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Leaves are strewn across the grounds in hues of bile and blood.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Her left eye wanders, and I wish I were possessed of a compass to determine to which cardinal direction the eye points most often.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“The window is so clean I think it is open when I attempt to throw one of the children out of it. The toddler slams against the glass and falls to the floor with a thud.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Observing my clean, respectable image in the glass I open my mouth wide in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Darkness within me, to spy it peeking out of me, slick and muscular and toothed, like a lamprey swallowed whole.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I think, They won't like me. I think, They must like me. I think, They will remember me.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Not one of them tries to stop us. If three or four of them had the sense to join up, they could easily overpower us both. If most of them hadn't been bred in captivity, force-fed a lifetime of politeness, kneading their spirits into compliance as callused fingers shape clay, they might have realized that.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I teach them nursery rhymes. Little Bobbie Binkins / Was boiled in a kettle / Served as tea to unsuspecting dames at the Brown’s Hotel.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Mr Pounds squints at me through the distance. ‘Your skull looks to be promising, Miss Notty. The forehead is broad, surely housing prominent organs of Benevolence.’ I nod solemnly. ‘Untold benevolences, indeed.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I wonder if this blackness isn't in fact the real world, and the true blindfold is that other world of color we are accustomed to.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Drusilla’s education shall be less rigorous, of course,’ says Mr Pounds. ‘She is now of an age when she risks her fertility from the ravages of overeducation. Says so in the Times.’ I interpret this to mean Drusilla will be doing much ornamental needlework.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Nothing a good rest devoid of intellectual strain can’t cure,’ Mr Pounds says brightly. ‘Agree wholeheartedly,’ Mr Fishal says. ‘Mrs Fishal said writing energised her”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“one single freckle at the corner of her mouth which many men shall one day tediously find attractive.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I picture my own soul escaping my body, oozing from between my legs in a clotted, barley-coloured sludge. It leaves a viscous stain on the carpet before slithering about the room to examine the porcelain with the hand-painted boar crest, the ox painting, the sweaty-faced footman who stares straight ahead as if blind. It then slides upward along the wall and presses a featureless face against the window overlooking the copper beech hedges.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Inside myself, my Darkness rests within my rib-cage, a jailed animal grown listless with domestication. I have not felt my soul for a very long time. It may have slipped out, unbeknownst to me. I’ve seen others lose their shame or dignity in this way.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I wonder what all the fuss with children is about. They’re only people, albeit smaller. Why care about people when they’re small if no one cares about them when they’re grown?”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“I descend to the dining-room for breakfast with the masters, observing from my end of the table as they exchange small cruelties.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“To this day I can’t help wondering what it is like, fear. Coursing through your blood like poison, eating away at your hopes, your ambitions, your self. I think it has to be the worst thing in the world.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“Any man would be fortunate to count you among his possessions,”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho

“anger lidding her eyes and thinning her mouth. She is looking positively miserable these days. The lines on her sallow forehead seem to be mating to beget more lines. Her chin sags like a turkey’s wattle.”
― Virginia Feito, Victorian Psycho