Best 30 quotes of Caspar Vega on MyQuotes

All of a sudden I'm inside the pimple realizing how grotesque this middle period is in a pimple's life. Before the white gunk emerges, when the pimple is half-internal, half-external. Veins from inside your face taking on a new shape, circling around the round ball like deranged earthworms.

Although Swedish is one of the few languages on this Earth that I enjoy the sound of. That and Japanese. French is all right, Italian is tolerable depending on who’s speaking it. Everything else makes me cringe. Even English with some accents is bad. Australian? Spare me.

Generation to generation, these pseudo-revolutionaries could never handle not being the cool kids. Something was always wrong. No sense of humor, no sense of self, just anger, vitriol, and misery.

Happy birthday to me. Twenty-four. Mid-twenties. Yay. I guess I have one year of youth left. At least I can round out twenty-four to twenty. Not so lucky with twenty-five, I’ll essentially be pushing thirty.

Having Miami in a state like Florida makes no sense. You may as well put Los Angeles in the middle of Arkansas. It's not connected, it's just bright and loud and big and... there.

I'd ask my parents to leave the door open just a little bit so I wouldn't be stuck in the prison of my bedroom and mind, the imaginary horrors barring me from entering dreamland.

I do believe in Providence. There have been far too many tiny perfect coincidences in my life. At some point, they cease to be coincidences.

I find myself in social situations often where I think of a response to something someone has just said and it’s just too good not to say it. More often than not, it’s something rude or offensive or disturbing. Always funny or poignant, though. And very rarely something I actually feel.

I interjected saying one would generally have to be human to have human rights.

I kept that thought in the background for a long time. It sort of just lingered there. The kind of thought that can apply to other situations, too. Like when you’re going to cheat on somebody. You know something’s going to happen and you can’t say it out loud. But you know that if you follow a certain line, it’ll come true and you’ll be free of most culpability in making it happen.

I'm angry at this whole damn society. I despise this culture filled with mass produced pornography. I'm proud of myself for not engaging myself with that grotesque product. I'm disgusted at the idea that it's a product to begin with.

I'm a procrastinator and a lazy person by nature. However, I require the laziness for greatness.

I’m at peak physical condition now. People sometimes assume I was in the army. I think I’m too insubordinate for that line of work. There’s enough to do around here. I read somewhere that you could still fit the entire world’s population into Texas. Imagine that.

I remember forcefully explaining to a friend of mine how I hate cars with shifter gears. How I don't understand why anyone would choose the extra work when they don't need to. It's like buying shoes with laces. If I can get nice shoes without laces, why would I make life even harder for myself? Just another thing to deal with.

It's strange when you no longer recognize yourself.

It was humanoid in form but it was certainly not a person. Its big upside-down teardrop shaped head was covered in blood yet I could still see it pulsating as if there was a big heart stuck inside its forehead, next to the brain, aching to pop out.

I've never ever missed anyone in my life. I genuinely do not understand the emotion. People have told me they missed me a thousand times. People have asked me if I miss them probably a hundred. I don't get it.

Nothing like a hot cup of black filtered coffee, none of that fancy espresso crap. Especially from those new pod machines. What is this, a spaceship?

Numbers are underrated. People are overrated.

Perhaps the cultural Christianity needs to become full-on no-excuses Christianity. You need light to fight the dark. It's the oldest story in the book.

Personal trainers and writers don't end up in history books.

Some people just don’t know when the conversation’s over.

The realization that men and women cannot be friends unless they're also sleeping together. I have enough friends, I don't really need any more.

The reinvention, the self-improvement, this kind of planning never really ends. It's not like you cross off six out of seven things from a recent list and voila, no more lists to worry about. It sounds more exhausting than it is. The life project.

There is something alluring about dying in a battle. I don't yearn for death. Suicide is the ultimate disgrace. Yet the image of going out in a blaze of glory, fighting for something truly good, truly worthwhile, something you truly believe in... The idea's splendor overwhelms me.

Two middle-aged yuppies got bored of their chosen careers, looked into Wicca and now fancy themselves to be witches. They're going to initiate their young daughter into it now. The broomstick family. How charming.

You can tell he never even considered the possibility of something like this happening to him. He's as out of his element hiring an investigator to snoop on his wife as he would be auditioning for a Russian ballet.

You know nothing about pain. You know nothing about reality. All you know is what’s inside your bubble. Well, I'm the needle about to pop it. Just you wait.

You're just another one of those disconnected, easily angered zombies who haven't really worked a day in their lives. Always eager to tell other people how to live and what to say. Posting pictures of their food every single day because that's a fucking achievement for them. Preparing a meal. You know, that thing you're supposed to do so you don't starve to death?

Your new realizations do not count as self-improvement or personal growth if you keep trying to deny or erase your previous convictions. It annoys me how often my dear fellow celebrities engage in it.