Donald Jeffries quotes are thought-provoking, memorable and inspiring. From views on society and politics to thoughts on love and life, Donald Jeffries has a lot to say. In this list we present the 13 best Donald Jeffries quotes, in no particular order. Let yourself get inspired!
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Donald Jeffries quotes
From the moment any of us utter our first goo-goo’s and ga-ga’s, we are as good as gone. At that precise instant, any possibility that It will ever arise in us is irrevocably crushed. If any proof is needed, consider how immune to strong emotion our society has grown. At your next visit to the local funeral parlor, glance at the mourners, who can more properly be defined as spectators. Notice how they smell, how well-dressed and dignified they are. This is because viewing the dead has become overwhelmingly acceptable as a social function. Yes, even the corpse is part of the festivities, lying there as the guest of honor, laid out in his best clothes, pumped full of chemicals and smeared with make-up as the patrons file by and nurse their long buried consciences with silk handkerchiefs.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Following his wonderful introduction to the joys of womanhood, Waldo found a perverse pleasure in leaving his after-sex cigarette butt glowing on the lawn of the executive mansion. Despite Jeanne’s repeated assurances that it wouldn’t actually be visible to any nineteenth century passers-by, Waldo preferred to picture his discarded cigarette butt being the center of much scrutiny, with puzzled Civil War-era Washingtonians reacting to it in the same way Brazilian farmers would react to U.F.O.’s a century later.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
That tank, ” Bucktooth pointed at the gas gauge on the dashboard of the decidedly unfredneck-like ’65 Dodge Dart, “is almost empty. We ain’t going much farther.” “Indeed it is.” A solemn Phosphate agreed. “I suggest we stop the car and weigh our options.” “What options?” Professor Buckley asked. “Why do-that is- we’ve been traveling up and down this path for over an hour without seeing anyone or encountering anything. Even the doughnut shop cannot be relocated. In light of this, what options do we have?” It was difficult to argue with the ex-history teacher’s typically alarmist position. Brisbane’s reliable old automobile had indeed been expending its remaining fuel supply in what seemed to be a hopeless effort to exit the unnamed dirt path. After leaving the doughnut shop and the blonde presidential descendant who worked there, they’d been unable to find DeMohrenschildt Lane again, or any other side street.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Waldo nodded and looked at the policeman’s face. Somehow the water that was dripping from the bill of his cap made him appear almost human. Nah, Waldo thought, it would take a lot more than water to wash that look off.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
At Snortin’ Reformatory, a notorious Washington, D.C. jail located in the northern Virginia suburbs, The Afro-Anarchists were being thrown into a cell. It was a situation that the three of them, like many young black males in the D.C. area, had long ago come to expect as a rite of passage. As the door slammed shut behind them, Bucktooth spoke. “Man, Phosphate, they didn’t read us our rights or nothin’.” “Yeah, Phos, ” Fontaine chimed in, “I didn’t think they had to beat us, neither. And whoever heard of being charged with singing too loud and off-key in a public establishment? I don’t believe there is no kind of law for that shit.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
She laughed again. “You must go to the movies a lot. This is not Dracula, and the villain isn’t Bela Lugosi. They took a good friend away from me, and they know I know. But, at any rate, I did try to find her boyfriend the day after she disappeared. I knew where he lived and I went there. His landlord said he’d left unexpectedly and he didn’t know where he’d gone. Lucky for me he wasn’t there, I suppose.” She took another deep breath and squinted at her watch. “Oh, my Lord. I didn’t realize it was that late. I really must be going.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Who originates the latest slang terms that are, seemingly overnight, known to every black youth across the country?
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Waldo, I say-that is-aren’t you tired, my boy?” Professor Buckley, suppressing a yawn, was unaccustomed to others matching his wakefulness wink for wink, as it were, and seemed jealous of the competition Waldo presented in that regard. “Who can sleep?” Waldo replied. “We’re on another of these crazy roads, we can’t find the interstate….” “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The Professor interrupted, taking off his thick spectacles and polishing them on his bright tie. “I, on the other hand, never sleep, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Waldo smiled. The Professor had little in life to be vain about, and he wasn’t going to stop him from expressing a little pride now and then.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
I have come to the conclusion that there has never been an honest investigation by any authoritative body in the history of the world.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Obama’s election to the presidency in 2008 was treated more like acoronation, if not an intense religious ritual, by the establishment press anda fawning, glassy-eyed majority of Americans. Anyone who questionedanything at all about Obama was deemed to be a “hater” or, even worse, a racist.
— Donald Jeffries, Hidden History: An Exposé of Modern Crimes, Conspiracies, and Cover-Ups in American Politics
Gossip columnists patrol their mundane arena with the same sort of mysterious merit the advice-givers do. Plainly put, how does anyone become a gossip columnist? I can’t simplify it down to a lower scale than that. Are there universities that offer courses in gossip writing? How about plain old Gossip 111? Are there that many literate people who could not write a gossip column? What then, qualifies the chosen few above the rest?
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Waldo nodded and waved goodbye pathetically, like a young father going off to war. As soon as the door was closed and he was gone, Jeanne squelched her own apprehensions, opened the paper and read the poem Waldo had written for her:One taste of Jeanne and out I flewWildly, madly, in no directionBut hers, and yet so straight and trueI fly towards her with no protectionIt feels so strange to move this wayThough I should land, desire it seemsMoves in strange circles and so I stayDisoriented beyond my wildest dreams.
— Donald Jeffries
Try this.” O’Grady smiled. “It’s the only thing we drink. It’ll warm your insides.” “What is it?” Asked the ever cautious Waldo. “We call it the Forest Flaming Special. Go ahead-drink up.” “Well, okay….” Waldo lifted the cup and nearly dropped it when saw his name printed clearly on the side. “We’ve been expecting you.” Explained Fred, beginning to laugh.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
Waldo was not alone by any means in trembling over an unjust plight. With the recent uproar over drunk driving, arrests had skyrocketed and detention centers all around the country were overflowing with bewildered motorists. Many of these dumbstruck, inebriated souls had been transferred and thoughtfully placed behind the same bars that held back murderers and rapists. Unfortunately for our heroes, they now joined the ranks of these luckless citizens.
— Donald Jeffries, The Unreals
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