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I didn't know the inner me was hungry, I said to Art. That's because it already starved to death.

Joe Hill

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Joe Hill
Death
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More quotes by Joe Hill

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There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.
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Innocence ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know. Innocent little kids rip the wings off flies, because they don’t know any better. That’s innocence
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She just knew that even when you had nothing, you still had love.
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You loved me as hard as you knew how. I'd give anything to go back and love you better.
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Workers of the world awaken. Break your chains, demand your rights. All the wealth you make is taken, by exploiting parasites. Shall you kneel in deep submission from your cradle to your grave? Is the height of your ambition to be a good and willing slave?
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The language of sin was universal, the original Esperanto.
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A pamphlet, no matter how good, is never read more than once, but a song is learned by heart and repeated over and over. And I maintain that if a person can put a few common sense facts into a song and dress them up in a cloak of humor, he will succeed in reaching a great number of workers who are too unintelligent or too indifferent to read.
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Already, though, she understood the difference between being a child and being an adult. The difference is when someone says he can keep the bad things away, a child believes him.
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I hope if there is another world, we will not be judged too harshly for the things we did wrong here—that we will at least be forgiven for the mistakes we made out of love.
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Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.
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That was one thing you found out when you were stoned, or wasted, or feverish: that the world was always turning and that only a healthy mind could block out the sickening whirl of it.
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It's like in the Bible.You can't always get what you want, but if you really need something, you usually find it. What part of the Bible is that from? Ig asked her. The Gospel of Keith Richards?
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It was something... the way a person's life picked up speed, the way a life was like a bullet aimed at one final target, impossible to slow or turn aside, and like the bullet, you were ignorant of what you were going to hit, would never know anything except the rush and the impact.
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Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.
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I mean, when the world comes for your children, with the knives out, it's your job to stand in the way.
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Terror is the desire to save your own ass, but horror is rooted in sympathy.
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Taking a thing apart is always faster than putting something together. This is true of everything except marriage.
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The blood of a redheaded woman is three degrees cooler than the blood of a normal woman. This has been established by medical studies.
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Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.
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Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?
Joe Hill