#y

Cigarettes, I won't do cigarettes, nicotine will kill ya. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#i #kill #nicotine #will #won

Humans have certain properties and characteristics which are intrinsic to them, just as every other organism does. That's human nature. ↗

— Noam Chomsky

#characteristics #does #every #human #human nature

The only justification for repressive institutions is material and cultural deficit. But such institutions, at certain stages of history, perpetuate and produce such a deficit, and even threaten human survival. ↗

— Noam Chomsky

#cultural #deficit #even #history #human

You can seduce a man without taking anything off, without even touching him. ↗

— Rae Dawn Chong

#even #him #man #off #seduce

But you can't exercise and be high. It's impossible. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#high #impossible #you

I was about sixteen when I discovered that music could get you laid, so I got into music boy, didn't matter what you looked like either, you could be a geeky looking guy but if you played music, whoa, you'd get the girls. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#boy #could #discovered #either #geeky

I'm a hybrid. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#i

People try to put ownership on things: 'That's mine, that's my joke.' No such thing. Like if you tripped or stumbled and people go, 'Oh, that's Charlie Chaplin.' You know what I mean? You can't own a joke. You can be the guy that tells it the best, but you can't own a joke. Nowhere can you own a laugh. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#chaplin #charlie #charlie chaplin #go #guy

The Shades never recorded anything, Little Daddy and the Bachelors recorded a couple of records, ya. ↗

— Tommy Chong

#bachelors #couple #daddy #little #never

He scraped through the dark sand to the center house, two stories, both pouring bands of light into the fog. There was warmth and gaiety within, through the downstairs window he could see young people gathered around a piano, their singing mocking the forces abroad on this cruel night. She was there, proptected by happiness and song and the good. He was separated from her only by a sand yard and a dark fence, by a lighted window and by her protectors. He stood there until he was trembling with pity and rage. Then he fled, but his flight was slow as the flight in a dream, impeded by the deep sand and the blurring hands of the fog. He fled from the goodness of that home, and his hatred for Laurel throttled his brain. If she had come back to him, he would not be shut out, an outcast in a strange, cold world. ↗

— Dorothy B. Hughes

#masculinity #murder #dreams