IQ Quotes

“It’s a hustler’s world, son,” Dodson said, “and if you ain’t doing the hustlin’? Somebody’s hustlin’ you.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Isaiah went on explaining like a college professor talking to a not very bright middle school student:”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“A customer came in, the only one in the last couple of hours. The man had the shakes and was looking around like he’d lost a child at the county fair. He was a regular, somewhere between forty and sixty, his face sagging like Auntie May’s basset hound, his eyes yellow and bloodshot from seeing too much of his own life.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“All right,” she said. “Inductive reasoning. It’s what those so-called detectives on CSI, SVU, LMNOP and all the rest of them call deductive reasoning, which is wrong and they should know better. It’s inductive reasoning, a tool you will use frequently in geometry as well as calculus and trigonometry, assuming you get that far and that certainly won’t be you, Jacquon. Stop messing with that girl’s hair and pay attention. Your grade on that last test was so low I had to write it on the bottom of my shoe.” Mrs. Washington glared at Jacquon until his face melted. She began again: “Inductive reasoning is reasoning to the most likely explanation. It begins with one or more observations, and from those observations we come to a conclusion that seems to make sense. All right. An example: Jacquon was walking home from school and somebody hit him on the head with a brick twenty-five times. Mrs. Washington and her husband, Wendell, are the suspects. Mrs. Washington is five feet three, a hundred and ten pounds, and teaches school. Wendell is six-two, two-fifty, and works at a warehouse. So who would you say is the more likely culprit?” Isaiah and the rest of the class said Wendell. “Why?” Mrs. Washington said. “Because Mrs. Washington may have wanted to hit Jacquon with a brick twenty-five times but she isn’t big or strong enough. Seems reasonable given the facts at hand, but here’s where inductive reasoning can lead you astray. You might not have all the facts. Such as Wendell is an accountant at the warehouse who exercises by getting out of bed in the morning, and before Mrs. Washington was a schoolteacher she was on the wrestling team at San Diego State in the hundred-and-five-to-hundred-and-sixteen-pound weight class and would have won her division if that blond girl from Cal Northridge hadn’t stuck a thumb in her eye. Jacquon, I know your mother and if I tell her about your behavior she will beat you ’til your name is Jesus.” The”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Repercussions will manifest beyond your ability to cope.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Jacquon, I know your mother and if I tell her about your behavior she will beat you ’til your name is Jesus.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Isaiah told him what he’d found on the Ruby’s Real Beauty website. Ruby’s stocked the largest, most complete inventory of human hair extensions in the South Bay area. The most highly prized were Virgin Remy. “Virgin because the girl still had her cherry?” Dodson said. “No. Virgin because the hair wasn’t chemically treated,” Isaiah said. “What’s Remy mean?” “It means the hair was carefully cut so the cuticles and roots stayed in the same direction. Otherwise, they mow it down like weeds and throw it in a bin.” Isaiah”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“All right,” she said. “Inductive reasoning. It’s what those so-called detectives on CSI, SVU, LMNOP and all the rest of them call deductive reasoning, which is wrong and they should know better. It’s inductive reasoning, a tool you will use frequently in geometry as well as calculus and trigonometry, assuming you get that far and that certainly won’t be you, Jacquon. Stop messing with that girl’s hair and pay attention. Your grade on that last test was so low I had to write it on the bottom of my shoe.” Mrs. Washington glared at Jacquon until his face melted. She began again: “Inductive reasoning is reasoning to the most likely explanation. It begins with one or more observations, and from those observations we come to a conclusion that seems to make sense. All right. An example: Jacquon was walking home from school and somebody hit him on the head with a brick twenty-five times. Mrs. Washington and her husband, Wendell, are the suspects. Mrs. Washington is five feet three, a hundred and ten pounds, and teaches school. Wendell is six-two, two-fifty, and works at a warehouse. So who would you say is the more likely culprit?” Isaiah”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“On the SB5 Stanford-Binet intelligence test Isaiah’s reasoning scores were near genius levels. His abilities came naturally but were honed in his math classes. He was formally introduced to inductive reasoning in geometry, a tenth-grade subject he took in the eighth. His teacher, Mrs. Washington, was a severe woman who looked to be all gristle underneath her brightly colored pantsuits. Lavender, Kelly green, peach. She talked to the class like somebody had tricked her into it. “All”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Then they have a son that’s dumber than a box of hair, he gets married and has kids that play hide-and-seek in the rosebushes.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“When Isaiah was in his teens, he worked for Harry Haldeman and wondered even then how the man could stay in a state of perpetual indignation; his fierce dark eyes glaring through the Coke-bottle bifocals resting on his great beak of a nose, his snow-white hair sticking up like a toilet brush. Isaiah thought he looked like an orchestra conductor. Harry’s wife, Louise, said he looked like an eagle wearing glasses. “Pit”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Burnout is very real. I see it in my practice on a daily basis. Men and women from every age and walk of life are so overwhelmed they can hardly function.” “Maybe they’re just working too hard.” “A common misconception. A person can suffer from burnout even if they’re a couch potato. You can burn out from being idle just like you can burn out from success. The common denominator is prolonged frustration.” “Spinning your wheels.” “Exactly. The feeling that no matter what you do you’re in the same place as you were yesterday. That there’s simply no reason to continue because you’d still be sunk in the same mire, running on the same treadmill, dancing the same tired dance. The housewife, the cop, the slacker, or the business tycoon can all suffer from burnout.” Cal”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“You’re on a fool’s journey, Mr. Quintabe,” Bobby said. “That’s okay. I’ve been a fool before.” As”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“What Mariah Carey should be telling them is to follow their abilities and make a dream out of what God gave them.” Marcus smiled that big sunny smile and saw the future in Isaiah’s eyes. “God gave you wings so you could fly up that pathway to the very top,” he said. “That’s where the best dreams are.” Isaiah”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Thank you, Anthony,” Dodson said. “Isaiah cogitates best when there are no distractions.” “What’s”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“A hoochie-looking girl with a backside like two hams in an Easter basket was looking into the cooler.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“You lucky you got skills, son, ’cause if you had to survive on your personality you’d be working at the morgue with dead people.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“What Mariah Carey should be telling them is to follow their abilities and make a dream out of what God gave them.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“I can’t be diminished by people talking no matter who they are but I will be if I take that money.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“978-0-316-26771-7”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Nestor wondered why the guy didn't stay around & be a hero.....Nestor would have to find him & thank him personally. A black guy who shot grenades couldn't be too hard to find.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“When Bobby was promoting raves back in Sacramento, Jimmy Bonifant was dealing ecstasy and what was the point of going to a rave without a double drop of vitamin X? The two hustlers shared a condo, ate breakfast at the Silver Skillet at three in the morning, and brought tweakers home and did them in the same room. Eventually,”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Isaiah was eating the last of the trail mix when Darcy emerged from an upstairs apartment. She was sixteen going on thirty-five, wearing a bathrobe over a slip and fuzzy slippers. She leaned against the railing and looked down at the parking lot like she was disappointed it was still there. Somebody called her. Her shoulders sagged. She looked skyward and shuffled back inside. Isaiah”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“The brown apartment building was L-shaped. All the doors were facing in, big white patches where the paint had chipped off the stucco. Laundry was draped over the second-story railing, an overflowing dumpster in the parking lot. Isaiah parked the Explorer facing the sun so you couldn’t see him through the glare of the windshield. Women sat outside their doors talking.”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Well, let me see. He’s got a tattoo on his forearm, I saw it when he was drinking my orange juice straight out of the box. It was a crown, like a king’s crown and some letters, CRR or CMM, something like that. And what else? Some numbers. Nineteen hundred?” “The crown is for Prince Street,” Isaiah said, “and it’s seventeen hundred. That’s the block number. The letters are CHH. For Crip Headhunters.” “I just remembered,” Tudor said. “There were some initials too. BK. Yes, I’m sure about that. BK. That should narrow it down some, don’t you think?” “BK means Blood killer,” Isaiah said. “Crips and Bloods are enemies.” “Good”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Come on in,” he said without getting up. “I’m Ed Blevins. Please, sit-sit, we’re not formal around here. Let me guess. You’re here about the stolen presents. It’s Mrs. Jenkins, isn’t it? And you are—” “A”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“We’d like to see the security supervisor,” Isaiah said. “You mean Ed?” she said, as if they were making a silly mistake. “If that’s his name.” “What”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Black the Knife, down without a fight A termite, a flea bite, Got stage fright, no right to life Boy’s an absentee, a detainee, no number on his caller ID Nobody home at the addressee His time is passed, miscast, outta gas, second class In foreclosure, never sober, I’m in clover, I’m taking over. “Makes”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“Isaiah lifted his head. “Somebody’s here.” They stepped behind the door as a sleepy-eyed buck-naked white girl clumped past in the hall, her booty like a backpack that had slipped down too low. “Bug?” she said. They left while she was in the bathroom. Back”
― Joe Ide, IQ

“The battering ram took the door out no problem. The siren was as loud as Pet City’s but the burglars wore noise-suppression headphones like the pit crews at NASCAR. They didn’t block the sound out completely but at least your head didn’t explode. Isaiah was overanxious but it was an easier score. All the Virgin Remy extensions were on the same set of shelves and he’d replaced the trash bags with collapsible hampers. They were lightweight and stayed open by themselves and you could load them with two hands. “Four”
― Joe Ide, IQ