Rabbit Redux Quotes

“That's the trouble with caring about anybody, you begin to feel overprotective. Then you begin to feel crowded.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“We were all brought up to want things and maybe the world isn't big enough for all that wanting. I don't know. I don't know anything”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“It comes to him: growth is betrayal. There is no other route. There is no arriving somewhere without leaving somewhere.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Growth is betrayal.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“What you haven't done by thirty you're not likely to do. What you have done you'll do lots more.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Women, fire in their crotch, won't burn out, begin by fighting off pricks, end by going wild hunting for one that still works.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“It's been the same story ever since I can remember, ever since Wilson – the Republicans don't do a thing for the little man.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“How sad, how strange, we make companions out of air and hurt them, so they will defy us, completing creation.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Days, pale slices between nights, they blend, not exactly alike, transparencies so lightly tinted that only stacked all together do they darken to a fatal shade.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Thirty-six years old and he knows less than when he started. With the difference that now he knows how little he'll always know.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Critics are like pigs at the pastry cart.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“I love you,” he says, and the fact that he doesn’t makes it true.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Man is a mechanism for turning things into spirit and turning spirit into things.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Who'll hold families together, if everybody has to live? Living is a compromise, between doing what you want and doing what other people want.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Oh,' she says, 'the Vat prints nothing but rapes. You know what a rape usually is? It's a woman who changed her mind afterward.”
― John Updike , Rabbit Redux

“There was a beauty here bigger than the hurtling beauty of basketball, a beauty refined from country pastures, a game of solitariness, of waiting, waiting for the pitcher to complete his gaze toward first base and throw his lightning, a game whose very taste, of spit and dust and grass and sweat and leather and sun, was America.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“There was a time—the year after leaving, even five years after when this homely street, with its old-fashioned high crown, its sidewalk blocks tugged up and down by maple roots, its retaining walls of sandstone and railings of painted iron and two-family brickfront houses whose siding imitates gray rocks, excited Rabbit with the magic of his own existence. These mundane surfaces had given witness to his life; this cup had held his blood; here the universe had centered, each downtwirling maple seed of more account than galaxies. No more. Jackson Road seems an ordinary street anywhere. Millions of such American streets hold millions of lives, and let them sift through, and neither notice nor mourn, and fall into decay, and do not even mourn their own passing but instead grimace at the wrecking ball with the same gaunt facades that have outweathered all their winters. However steadily Mom communes with these maples—the branches’ misty snake-shapes as inflexibly fixed in these two windows as the leading of stained glass—they will not hold back her fate by the space of a breath; nor, if they are cut down tomorrow to widen Jackson Road at last, will her staring, that planted them within herself, halt their vanishing. And the wash of new light will extinguish even her memory of them. Time is our element, not a mistaken invader. How stupid, it has taken him thirty-six years to begin to believe that.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“His insides are beginning to feel sickly. The pain of the world is a crater all these syrups and pills a thousandfold would fail to fill.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“He wants to feel good, he always used to feel good at every turning of the year, every vacation or end of vacation, every new sheet on the calendar: but his adult life has proved to have no seasons, only changes of weather, and the older he gets, the less weather interests him. The house next to his old house still has the FOR SALE sign up. He tries his front door”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“I don’t think about politics,” Rabbit says. “That’s one of my Goddam precious American rights, not to think about politics. I just don’t see why we’re supposed to walk down the street with our hands tied behind our back and let ourselves be blackjacked by every thug who says he has a revolution going. And it really burns me up to listen to hotshot crap-car salesmen dripping with Vitalis sitting on their plumped-up asses bitching about a country that’s been stuffing goodies into their mouth ever since they were born.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Chaos is God's body. Order is the Devil's chains.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“For supper Jill cooks a filet of sole, lemony, light, simmered in sunshine, skin flaky brown; Nelson gets a hamburger with wheatgerm sprinkled on it to remind him of a Nutburger. Wheatgerm, zucchini, water chestnuts, celery salt, Familia: these are some of the exotic items Jill's shopping brings into the house. Her cooking tastes to him of things he never had: candlelight, saltwater, health fads, wealth, class.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Death is easily fooled. If the churches don't work, a filter will do.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Nothing feels worse than other people's good times.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Just middle-aged. Ideas used to grab me too. It's not that you get better ideas, the old ones just get tired. After a while you see that even dollars and cents are just an idea. Finally the only thing that masters is putting some turds in the toilet bowl once a day. They stay real, somehow. Somebody came up to me and said, 'I'm God,' I'd say, 'Show me your badge.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“There’s no medical expense can break us now. They called LBJ every name in the book but believe me he did a lot of good for the little man. Wherever he went wrong, it was his big heart betrayed him. These pretty boys in the sky right now, Nixon’ll hog the credit but it was the Democrats put ’em there, it’s been the same story ever since I can remember, ever since Wilson—the Republicans don’t do a thing for the little man.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“Whatever men make," she says, "what they felt when they made it is there. If it was made to make money, it will smell of money. That's why these houses are so ugly, all the corners they cut are still in them. All the savings. That's. why the cathedrals are so lovely; nobles and ladies in velvet and ermine dragged the stones up the ramps. Think of a painter. He stands in front of the canvas with a color on his brush. Whatever he feels when he makes the mark-if he's tired or bored or happy and proud-will be there. The same color, but we'll feel it. Like fingerprints. Like hand-writing. Man is a mechanism for turning things into spirit and turning spirit into things.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“He’s saying what Skeeter says. If the System, even if it works for most people, has to oppress some of the people, then the whole System should be destroyed.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“What’s all this about democracy, let’s have here a dollar-cracy. Why’d we ever care, free versus slave? Capital versus labor, that’s where it’s at, right? This poor cunt of a country’s the biggest jampot’s ever come along so let’s eat it, friend.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux

“I’ve always called ’em black and they call themselves blacks now and that suits me fine. They can’t do a white man’s job, except for a few, and take even Buck, he’s never made head of makeup though he’s been here the longest; so they have to rob and kill, the ones that can’t be pimps and prizefighters. They can’t cut the mustard and never could. This country should have taken whosever advice it was, George Washington if memory serves, one of the founding fathers, and shipped ’em all back to Africa when we had a chance. Now, Africa wouldn’t take ’em. Booze and Cadillacs and white pussy, if you’ll pardon my saying so, have spoiled ’em rotten. They’re the garbage of the world, Harry. American Negroes are the lowest of the low. They steal and then they have the nerve to say the country owes it to ’em.”
― John Updike, Rabbit Redux