Think of what a paradise this world would be if men were kind and wise. Kurt Vonnegut More Quotes by Kurt Vonnegut More Quotes From Kurt Vonnegut The practice of art isn't to make a living. It's to make your soul grow. Kurt Vonnegut practice inspirational art The canary bird in the coal mine theory of the arts: artists should be treasured as alarm systems. Kurt Vonnegut alarms bird art Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith, I consider a capacity for it terrifying and absolutely vile. Kurt Vonnegut crazy atheist sweet In an unmoored life like mine, sleep and hunger and work arrange themselves to suit themselves, without consulting me. Kurt Vonnegut hunger suits sleep Comedians and jazz musicians have been more comforting and enlightening to me than preachers or politicians or philosophers or poets or painters or novelists of my time. Historians in the future, in my opinion, will congratulate us on very little other than our clowning and our jazz. Kurt Vonnegut comedian musician comforting War is now a form of TV entertainment, and what made the First World War so particularly entertaining were two American inventions, barbed wire and the machine gun. Kurt Vonnegut gun war two So the America I loved still exists, if not in the White House or the Supreme Court or the Senate or the House of Representatives or the media. The America I love still exists at the front desks of our public libraries. Kurt Vonnegut media white america When the last living thing Has died on account of us, How poetical it would be If Earth could say, In a voice floating up Perhaps From the floor Of the Grand Canyon, "It is done." People did not like it here. Kurt Vonnegut voice would-be people Where is home? I've wondered where home is, and I realized, it's not Mars or someplace like that, it's Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there's no way I can get there again. Kurt Vonnegut brother dog mother Just in the nick of time they realized that it was their own habitat they were wrecking -- that they weren't merely visitors. Kurt Vonnegut visitors habitat Make war not on terrorism but on ignorance, on sickness and on environmental degradation. Kurt Vonnegut environmental ignorance war Alcohol and marijuana, if used in moderation, plus loud, usually low-class music, make stress and boredom infinitely more bearable. Kurt Vonnegut marijuana weed stress Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns. Kurt Vonnegut gun pigs war You can't just eat good food. You've got to talk about it too. And you've got to talk about it to somebody who understands that kind of food. Kurt Vonnegut fabulous kind food All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist. Kurt Vonnegut slaughterhouse-five chaos past No one can amount to a damn in the arts if he becomes sweetly reasonable, seeing all sides of a picture, forgiving all sins. Kurt Vonnegut forgiving sides art I was a victim of a series of accidents, as are we all. Kurt Vonnegut accidents insightful victim Since Alice had never received any religious instruction, and since she had led a blameless life, she never thought of her awful luck as being anything but accidents in a very busy place. Good for her. Kurt Vonnegut awful luck religious People say there are no atheists in foxholes. A lot of people think this is a good argument against atheism. Personally, I think it's a much better argument against foxholes. Kurt Vonnegut atheist people thinking I try to keep deep love out of my stories because, once that particular subject comes up, it is almost impossible to talk about anything else. Readers don't want to hear about anything else. They go gaga about love. If a lover in a story wins his true love, that's the end of the tale, even if World War III is about to begin, and the sky is black with flying saucers. Kurt Vonnegut winning love war
