Freddy Fender Quotes

“I'm a romantic, and we romantics are more sensitive to the way people feel. We love more, and we hurt more. When we're hurt, we hurt for a long time.”

“I'm a romantic, and we romantics are more sensitive to the way people feel. We love more, and we hurt more. When we're hurt, we hurt for a long time.”

“Whenever I run into prejudice. I smile and feel sorry for them, and I say to myself, There's one more argument for birth control.”

“The design of each element should be thought out in order to be easy to make and easy to repair.”

“I would rather serve God and displease my flesh than serve my flesh and displease God.”

“Some guy hit my fender the other day and I said unto him "Be fruitful and multiply." But not in those words.”

“They sounded really professional because they had two Vox AC 30 amplifiers. I also had an AC 30, so when you looked at it, three AC 30s, three Fenders - bloody hell, it must be a great band!”

“And she was not beautiful asleep. Her expression slack and not angelic. The very ordinariness of it so beautiful he felt a yearning to be something more than he was or could be. And as good a player as he was, he knew as he turned on the reel to reel and hugged the Fender once again that nothing he composed would ever be as beautiful as her ordinary sleep.Watching her he played the music of her sleeping. And by surrendering made something beautiful.”

“Lucifer sharpened his gaze and focused on Ajax. “Yes… I want you to drive over to New Jersey, load those two corpses into your car and take them back to the Italians… personally”“In my car?”“They haven’t been in the water more than a week, Ajax.”“But actually… inside?”“Well,” Lucifer’s patience was fading, “If you tie them to the fenders like you’re coming back from Deer Camp, the Italians might not find you quite as endearing…”--Lucifer and Ajax from The Ragtime Coven”

“Winston stopped reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that he was reading, in comfort and safety. He was alone: no telescreen, no ear at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the page with his hand. The sweet summer air played against his cheek. From somewhere far away there floated the faint shouts of children: in the room itself there was no sound except the insect voice of the clock. He settled deeper into the arm-chair and put his feet up on the fender. It was bliss, it was eternity.”

“Every town has a psychopath or two. Not just the everyday crazy person, either. Not like Crazy Larry, the paint huffing weirdo peddling around town on a child-sized Huffy ranting about the end of the world, or the old lady dressed in rags who hands out filthy doll clothes to the kiddies. I'm talking about the cold, never remorseful lunatic, who may never have seemed insane up until the day he hacked apart his mother and shoved her stinking corpse into the attic. This town is overflowing with them; bloodcurdling murderers like Kenny Wayne Hilbert, Charlie Fender…Orland Winthro. And Al, the crazy had to come from somewhere.”