Any hope that America would finally grow up vanished with the rise of fundamentalist Christianity. Fundamentalism, with its born-again regression, its pink-and-gold concept of heaven, its literal-mindedness, its rambunctious good cheer... its anti-intellectualism... its puerile hymns... and its faith-healing... are… — Florence King Copy Share Image
Any discussion of the problems of being funny in America will not make sense unless we substitute the word wit for humor. Humor inspires sympathetic good-natured laughter and is favored by the healing-power gang. Wit goes for the jugular, not… — Florence King Copy Share Image
“Feminists will not be satisfied until every abortion is performed by a gay black doctor under an endangered tree on a reservation for handicapped… — Florence King Copy Share Image
People are so busy dreaming the American Dream, fantasizing about what they could be or have a right to be, that they're all asleep… — Florence King Copy Share Image
In its purest sense, nicknaming is an elitist ritual practiced by those who cherish hierarchy. For preppies it's a smoke signal that allows Bunny… — Florence King Copy Share Image
In the last few years, race relations in America have entered upon a period of intensified craziness wherein fear of being called a racist… — Florence King Copy Share Image
He travels fastest who travels alone, and that goes double for she. Real feminism is spinsterhood. — Florence King Copy Share Image
to a Southerner it is faux pas, not sins, that matter in this world. — Florence King Copy Share Image
If you ever meet someone who cannot understand why solitary confinement is considered punishment, you have met a misanthrope. — Florence King Copy Share Image
No matter which sex I went to bed with, I never smoked on the street — Florence King Copy Share Image
Hereditary monarchy offers numerous advantages for America. It is the only form of government able to unify a heterogeneous people. Thanks to centuries of… — Florence King Copy Share Image
Resistance to team play seemed to pour like wet cement through my bones, displacing supple marrow, until I was ballasted with my own contempt. — Florence King Copy Share Image
