The best Quotes by Hank Moody

Becca: "My heart hurts."
Hank: "Oh, god, baby. Mine, too. Is it boy trouble? Me too. Well, girl trouble. You want to talk about it?"
Becca: "No. I just want to know when it stops hurting."
Hank: "Well, here's the deal, and you're not gonna want to hear this, so it's gonna sound like piss-poor parenting, but if you're lucky, never."

Dear Karen,
if you're reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it. So, good for me. You don't know me very well, but if you get me started, I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this... this is the hardest thing I've ever had to write.

There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. I met someone. It was an accident. I wasn't looking for it. I wasn't on the make. It was a perfect storm. She said one thing. I said another. Next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.

Now there's this feeling in my gut. She might be the one. She's completely nuts in a way that makes me smile. A great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That's the good news. The bad is that I don't know how to be with you right now. And that scares the shit out of me. Because if I'm not with you right now, I have this feeling we'll get lost out there. It's a big, bad world full of twists and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment... the moment that could've changed everything.

I don't know what's going on with us and I can't tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me... but, damn, you smell good, like home. And you make excellent coffee. That's got to count for something, right?

Call me.

Unfaithfully yours,
Hank Moody

I don't like the drugs, doc. The drugs like me.

You can't snort a line of coke off a woman's ass and not wonder about her hopes and dreams, it's not gentlemanly.

Cities don't change people. People don't even change people. We are who we are.

Hank: "A bl*wjob from you?"
Girl: "Well, something tells me, it's not gonna suck itself, Hank."

To my dear beautiful daughter,

I'm writing you a letter. That's right, a good old-fashioned letter. It's a lost art, really. I have a confession to make. I didn't like you very much at first. You were just this annoying, little blob. You smelled nice. Most of the time. But you didn't seem to have much interest in me. Which I, of course, found vaguely insulting.

It was just you and your mom against the world... funny how some things never change. So I cruised along, doing my thing, acting the fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. And I don't remember the exact moment everything changed. I just know that it did.

One minute I was impenetrable. Nothing could touch me. The next, my heart was somehow beating outside my chest, exposed to the elements. Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact, it's been almost too much to bear. As your father, I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing I was the one who would end up hurting you the most.

When I flash forward, my heart breaks. Mostly because I can't imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride. How could you? Your father is a child in a man's body. He cares for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action. Something has to change. Something has to give. It's getting dark... too dark to see.

I'm telling you that no amount of top-shelf p*ssy can compete with the love of a good woman.

It's not whether you win or you lose, it's how you play the game.

In my absence, your whole life has become this sexual playground.

What's the move here? Good cop, bad cop, bald cop?

You have extremely moist lips. They're like kissable cupcakes. It's as if Sprinkles and Crumbs got together, made sweet love, and had these delicious little smoochable cupcake babies.

Once upon a time, I wrote a book. People seemed to dig it, so I wrote another and one after that. That's when Hollywood came knocking at my back door. As soon as I cashed that check, I wrapped my lips around the mighty erection that is the film industry and sucked hard. Just like a good wh-re should.

People... they don't write anymore - they blog. Instead of talking, they text, no punctuation, no grammar: LOL this and LMFAO that. You know, it just seems to me it's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King's English.