Best 184 of Ken Kesey quotes - MyQuotes

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Ken Kesey
By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

It is bad to suppress laughter. It goes back down to your hips. Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Ken Kesey

Nobody complains about all the fog. I know why, now: as bad as it is, you can slip back in it and feel safe. That’s what McMurphy can’t understand, us wanting to be safe. He keeps trying to drag us out of the fog, out in the open where we’d be easy to get at.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

There’s no doubt in my mind that McMurphy’s won, but I’m not sure what.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

Major part of the Southern California pop scene in the 60s "People think that love is an emotion. Love is good sense.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

He's got hands so long and white and dainty I think they carved each other out of soap, and sometimes they get loose and glide around in front of him free as two white birds until he notices them and traps them between his knees; it bothers him that he's got pretty hands.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

See with your ears and hear with your eyes.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

Leary can get a part of my mind that's kind of rusted shut grinding again, just by being around him and talking.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

I listened to them fade away till all I could hear was my memory of the sound.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The Republican consciousness has no integrity and it falls apart once you check it out. If you're a Christian, why would you want to fry this dude?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

They did type me as a horror writer, but I have been able to do all sorts of things within that framework.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

It's fogging a little, but I won't slip off and hide in it. No...never again...

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The truth doesn't have to do with cruelty, the truth has to do with mercy.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or twice apiece, singing some song as loud as he could in time to the swishing brush; then he'd splash in some Clorox and he'd be through. ... And when the Big Nurse...came in to check McMurphy's cleaning assignment personally, she brought a little compact mirror and she held it under the rim of the bowls. She walked along shaking her head and saying, "Why, this is an outrage... an outrage..." at every bowl. McMurphy sidled right along beside her, winking down his nose and saying in answer, "No; that's a toilet bowl...a TOILET bowl.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

He knew you can't really be strong until you can see a funny side of things.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

But it's the truth even if it didn't happen.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Ken Kesey

They didn’t mind so much when I was a dumb logger and got into a hassle; that’s excusable, they say, that’s a hard-workin’ feller blowing off steam, they say. But if you’re a gambler, if they know you to get up a back-room game now and then, all you have to do is spit slantwise and you’re a goddamned criminal.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

I been silent so long now it’s gonna roar out of me like floodwaters and you think the guy telling this is ranting and raving my God; you think this is too horrible to have really happened, this is too awful to be the truth! But, please. It’s still hard for me to have a clear mind thinking on it. But it’s the truth even if it didn’t happen.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

Living is the purpose of life, And meaning can be found therein. I finds thou. Thou becomes it. And it begins again.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

But the more I read... after awhile... I begin to find they were all writing about the same thing, this same dull old here-today-gone-tomorrow scene... Shakespeare, Milton, Matthew Arnold, even Baudelaire, even this cat whoever he was that wrote Beowulf... the same scene for the same reasons and to the same end, whether it was Dante with his pit or Baudelaire with his pot... the same dull old scene...

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

In any given situation there will always be more dumb people than smart people. We ain't many!

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

Your trouble is, you keep trying to unscrew the unscrutable.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

I sometimes have these spells of compulsive truth. But as Lady Macbeth would say, "The fit is momentary.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Ken Kesey

We are lunatics from the hospital up the highway, psycho-ceramics, the cracked pots of mankind.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

If this glorious birth to death hassle is the only hassle we are ever to have ..if our grand exhilarating fight of life is such a tragically short little scrap anyway,compared to the eons of rounds before and after-then why should one want to relinquish even a few precious seconds of it?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

When you love someone it is forever, or it was never really love at all.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

The answer is never the answer. What's really interesting is the mystery.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

But I tried, didn't I? Goddamnit, at least I did that.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

If you don't watch it people will force you one way or the other, into doing what they think you should do, or into just being mule-stubborn and doing the opposite out of spite.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

If you're a Conservative, why aren't you behind conserving the land?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

You don't lead by pointing and telling people some place to go. You lead by going to that place and making a case.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

If somebody'd of come in and took a look, men watching a blank TV, a fifty-year old woman hollering and squealing at the back of their heads about discipline and order and recriminations, they'd of thought the whole bunch was crazy as loons.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

I realized I still had my eyes shut. I had shut them when I put my face to the screen, like I was scared to look outside. Now I had to open them. I looked out the window and saw for the first time how the hospital was out in the country. The moon was low in the sky over the pastureland; the face of it was scarred and scuffed where it had just torn up out of the snarl of scrub oak and madrone trees on the horizon. The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon. It called to mind how I noticed the exact same thing when I was off on a hunt with Papa and the uncles and I lay rolled in blankets Grandma had woven, lying off a piece from where the men hunkered around the fire as they passed a quart jar of cactus liquor in a silent circle. I watched that big Oregon prairie moon above me put all the stars around it to shame. I kept awake watching, to see if the moon ever got dimmer or if the stars got brighter, till the dew commenced to drift onto my cheeks and I had to pull a blanket over my head. Something moved on the grounds down beneath my window — cast a long spider of shadow out across the grass as it ran out of sight behind a hedge. When it ran back to where I could get a better look, I saw it was a dog, a young, gangly mongrel slipped off from home to find out about things went on after dark. He was sniffing digger squirrel holes, not with a notion to go digging after one but just to get an idea what they were up to at this hour. He’d run his muzzle down a hole, butt up in the air and tail going, then dash off to another. The moon glistened around him on the wet grass, and when he ran he left tracks like dabs of dark paint spattered across the blue shine of the lawn. Galloping from one particularly interesting hole to the next, he became so took with what was coming off — the moon up there, the night, the breeze full of smells so wild makes a young dog drunk — that he had to lie down on his back and roll. He twisted and thrashed around like a fish, back bowed and belly up, and when he got to his feet and shook himself a spray came off him in the moon like silver scales. He sniffed all the holes over again one quick one, to get the smells down good, then suddenly froze still with one paw lifted and his head tilted, listening. I listened too, but I couldn’t hear anything except the popping of the window shade. I listened for a long time. Then, from a long way off, I heard a high, laughing gabble, faint and coming closer. Canada honkers going south for the winter. I remembered all the hunting and belly-crawling I’d ever done trying to kill a honker, and that I never got one. I tried to look where the dog was looking to see if I could find the flock, but it was too dark. The honking came closer and closer till it seemed like they must be flying right through the dorm, right over my head. Then they crossed the moon — a black, weaving necklace, drawn into a V by that lead goose. For an instant that lead goose was right in the center of that circle, bigger than the others, a black cross opening and closing, then he pulled his V out of sight into the sky once more. I listened to them fade away till all I could hear was my memory of the sound.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

I realized I still had my eyes shut. I had shut them when I put my face to the screen, like I was scared to look outside. Now I had to open them. I looked out the window and saw for the first time how the hospital was out in the country. The moon was low in the sky over the pastureland; the face of it was scarred and scuffed where it had just torn up out of the snarl of scrub oak and madrone trees on the horizon. The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon. I was off on a hunt with Papa and the uncles and I lay rolled in blankets Grandma had woven, lying off a piece from where the men hunkered around the fire as they passed a quart jar of cactus liquor in a silent circle. I watched that big Oregon prairie moon above me put all the stars around it to shame. I kept awake watching, to see if the moon ever got dimmer or the stars got brighter, till the dew commenced to drift onto my cheeks and I had to pull a blanket over my head.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

There's a lot of people who don't understand the circle crops in England. Pure enigma.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

Because he knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy. He knows there's a painful side; he knows my thumb smarts and his girlfriend has a bruised breast and the doctor is losing his glasses, but he won't let the pain blot out the humor no more'n he'll let the humor blot out the pain.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The secret of being a top-notch con man is being able to know what the mark wants, and how to make him think he's getting it.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ken Kesey

I indulged in certain practices that our society regards as shameful. And I got sick. It wasn’t the practices, I don’t think, it was the feeling that the great, deadly, pointing forefinger of society was pointing at me — and the great voice of millions chanting, ‘Shame. Shame. Shame.’ It’s society’s way of dealing with someone different.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

High high in the hills , high in a pine tree bed. She's tracing the wind with that old hand, counting the clouds with that old chant, Three geese in a flock one flew east one flew west one flew over the cuckoo's nest

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

I believe that with the advent of acid, we discovered a new way to think, and it has to do with piecing together new thoughts in your mind. Why is it that people think it's so evil ? What is it about it that scares people so deeply, even the guy that invented it, what is it ? Because they're afraid that there's more to reality than they have confronted. That there are doors that they're afraid to go in, and they don't want us to go in there either, because if we go in we might learn something that they don't know. And that makes us a little out of their control.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

The raw materials of reality without the glue of time are materials adrift and reality is as meaningless as the balsa parts of a model airplane scattered to the wind.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

They can't tell so much about you if you got your eyes closed.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

A sound of cornered-animal fear and hate and surrender and defiance . . . like the last sound the treed and shot and falling animal makes as the dogs get him, when he finally doesn't care about anything but himself and his dying.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

I've enjoyed being a famous writer-except that every once in a while you have to write something.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

We made love. How pedestrian the words look-trite, worn, practically featureless with use-but how can one better describe that which happens when it happens? That creation? That magic blending? I might say we became figures in a mesmerized dance before the rocking talisman of the moon, starting slow, so slow... a pair of feathers drifting through clear liquid substance of sky... gradually accelerating, faster and faster and finally into photon existence of pure light... as my whole straining body burst like fluid electricity into hers.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

The '60s aren't over; they won't be over until the Fat Lady gets high.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Ken Kesey

(Página 45) "A enfermaria zumbe da maneira como ouvi uma fábrica de tecido zumbir uma vez, quando o time de futebol jogou com a escola secundária na Califórnia. Depois de uma boa temporada, s promotores da cidade estavam tão orgulhosos e exaltados que pagavam para que fôssemos de avião até a Califórnia para disputar um campeonato de escolas secundárias com o time de lá. Quando chegamos à cidade tivemos de visitar um indústria local qualquer. Nosso treinador era um daqueles dados a convencer as pessoas de que o atletismo era educativo por causa do aprendizado proporcionado pelas viagens, e em todas as viagens que fazíamos ele carregava com o time para visitar fábricas de laticínios, fazendas de plantação de beterraba e fábricas de conservas, antes do jogo . Na Califórnia foi uma fábrica de tecido. Quando entramos na fábrica, a maior parte do time deu uma olhada rápida e saiu para ir sentar-se no ônibus e jogar pôquer em cima das malas, mas eu fiquei lá dentro numa canto, fora do caminho das moças negras que corriam de um lado para o outro entre as fileiras de máquinas. A fábrica me colocou numa espécie de sonho, todos aqueles zumbidos e estalos a chocalhar de gente e de máquinas sacudindo-se em espasmos regulares. Foi por isso que eu fiquei quando todos os outros se foram, por isso e porque aquilo me lembrou de alguma forma os homens da tribo que haviam deixado a aldeia nos últimos dias para ir trabalhar na trituradora de pedras para a represa. O padrão frenético, os rostos hipnotizados pela rotina... eu queria ir com o time, mas não pude. Era de manhã, no princípio do inverno, e eu ainda usava a jaqueta que nos deram quando ganhamos o campeonato - uma jaqueta vermelha e verde com mangas de couro e um emblema com o formato de uma bola de futebol bordado nas costas, dizendo o que havíamos vencido - e ela estava fazendo com que uma porção de moças negras olhassem. Eu a tirei , mas elas continuaram olhando. Eu era muito maior naquela época. " (Página 46) "Uma das moças afastou-se de sua máquina e olhou para um lado e para o outro das passagens entre as máquinas, para ver se o capataz estava por perto, depois veio até onde eu estava. Perguntou se íamos jogar na escola secundária naquela noite e me disse que tinha um irmão que jogava como zagueiro para eles. Falamos um pouco a respeito do futebol e coisas assim, e reparei como o rosto dela parecia indistinto, como se houvesse uma névoa entre nós dois. Era a lanugem de algodão pairando no ar. Falei-lhe a respeito da lanugem. Ela revirou os olhos e cobriu a boca com a mão, para rir, quando eu lhe disse como era parecido com o olhar o seu rosto numa manhã enevoada de caça ao pato. E ela disse : " Agora me diga para que é que você quereria nesse bendito mundo estar sozinho comigo lá fora, numa tocaia de pato ?" Disse-lhe que ela poderia tomar de conta da minha arma, e as moças começaram a rir com a boca escondida atrás das mãos na fábrica inteira. Eu também ri um pouco, vendo como havia parecido inteligente. Anda estávamos conversando e rindo quando ela agarrou meus pulsos e os apertou com as mãos. Os traços do seu rosto de repente se acentuaram num foco radioso; vi que ela estava aterrorizada por alguma coisa. - Leve-me - disse ela num murmúrio - Leve-me mesmo garotão. Para fora desta fábrica aqui, para fora desta cidade, para fora desta vida. Me leva para uma tocaia de pato qualquer, num lugar qualquer . Num outro lugar qualquer. Hem garotão, hem ?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Ken Kesey

When you're around the whole Dead scene, they're there as a tribal thing; they're there as part of a rendezvous and a pow-wow.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Ken Kesey

The answer is never the answer. What's really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you'll always be seeking. I've never seen anybody really find the answer, but they think they have. So they stop thinking. But the job is to seek mystery, evoke mystery, plant a garden in which strange plants grow and mysteries bloom. The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Ken Kesey

Anti-drug fanatics and cops are the criminals - it's like McCarthyism. They need someone to dislike to distract the public from the really important problems.