Freak Quotes

“You say freak, I say unique.”
― Christian Baloga

“Dear friend, You are not a freak. You are wanted. You are necessary. You are the only you there is. Don’t be afraid to leave the castle. It’s a great big world out there. Love, a fellow reader”
― Jennifer Niven, Holding Up the Universe

“They thought to use and shame me but I win out by nature, because a true freak cannot be made. A true freak must be born.”
― Katherine Dunn, Geek Love

“The problem is normal was'nt in my DNA. I was destined to be forever freakish.”
― Julie Hockley, Crow's Row

“There is nothing to talk about" she said. "I'm just a freak that's all.”
― Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

“Well, you're right. I'm a Freak."

"Huh?"

"I love being bullied. Being hit and kicked by others gets me totally excited. That's what kind of freak I am.
Sorry if that bothers you.”
― Yuna Kagesaki, AiON Volume 1

“Wherever Cool is, anyway, I missed it, and now I'm stuck observing these machinations or sex and status and dancing and parties and people sucking at each other under the bleacher seating like some kind of freak, when I'm not the freak; Rich is the freak. Clearly. When I grow up, that had better be understood and I had better be compensated, or I'm going to shoot myself in the head.”
― Ned Vizzini, Be More Chill

“They'll use guns and they'll use words, and the worst part of all is that you might listen when they say you're a freak or a monster, and you might start to believe it.
But they are lying.”
― RoAnna Sylver, Chameleon Moon

“The history of progress is a history of freaks.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Karadeniz Chronicle: The Novel

“Hello, freak,” Drake said.
Lana backed away, but too late. Drake leveled his gun at her.
“I’m right-handed. ’Least I used to be. But I can still hit you from this distance.”
“What do you want?”
Drake motioned toward the stump of his right arm. It was gone from just above the elbow. “What do you think I want?”
The one time she’d seen Drake Merwin, he had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance.
“I’ll try,” Lana said.
“You’ll do more than try,” he said. He convulsed in pain, face scrunched. A low, eerie moan escaped his throat.
“I don’t know if I can grow a whole arm back,” Lana said. “Let me touch it.”
“Not here,” he hissed. He motioned with his gun. “Through the back door.”
“If you shoot me, I can’t help you,” Lana argued.
“Can you heal dogs? How about if I blow his brains out? Can you heal that, freak?”
― Michael Grant

“He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling.
“What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded.
That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered.
“I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.”
“I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted.
“You’re a lying mutant freak!”
“They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted.
Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.”
“They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.”
That earned a laugh.
“And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried.
Angry cheers.
Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.”
“No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain.
“You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.”
Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?”
“Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?”
Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.”
“Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.”
Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us."
“I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.”
“No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face.
Someone yelled in pain.
Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked.
Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars.
He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun.
Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio.
Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face.
Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!”
There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“When someone says "don’t freak," wouldn’t a person think that maybe they should freak?”
― Jazz Feylynn, Colorado State of Mind

“Have you ever watched kids on a playground? There will be one kid taller than all the rest. He’s out there playing, and he’s the tallest one. But he doesn’t know he’s tall. Maybe on some level it registers with him that the other kids in his class are shorter, that he has to look down to meet their eyes when he’s close to them, but he never really thinks much about it. “Later, if the difference stays and he remains taller than others, somebody will say something about his height. Maybe they’ll tease him and call him a freak. Then he’ll fully realize he’s taller than normal. He still won’t think much about it, though, until others point it out to him all the time.”
― Jaxon Reed, The Empathic Detective

“He already thought she was a weirdo, and this was just going to make her seem that much weirder. Did the bearded lady get excited when cute guys came to her freak show?”
― Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl

“In this bubble of time, I wasn't a freak and he wasn't a bully, and we could be friends without anyone knowing, and at least for now, that was enough.”
― Shaun David Hutchinson, The Apocalypse of Elena Mendoza

“Yes, some people are against you, and there's still more OCD things we haven't discussed. But you're not a freak. Whenever you feel comfortable confiding in me, I'm here. Except when I'm unconscious, but I think you get that.”
― Sarah Gracia, Prisoners of War

“They cry because they care about your opinion, but you don't.”
― Aryan jain, Glitches In The Heaven

“After all, I'm not a freak; I'm just a girl with a bad case of the worries.”
― Jan Esh & Stephen Nauta, Help! There's a Dragon in My Head

“Back in the early 2000s you were called a freak, loser, virgin, nerd or weirdo by women for using the internet. Now look at them.”
― stained hanes, 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat

“The intruders spoke no words as they rushed in. Five boys carrying baseball bats and tire irons. They wore an assortment of Halloween masks and stocking masks.
But Derek knew who they were.
“No! No!” he cried.
All five boys wore bulky shooter’s earmuffs. They couldn’t hear him. But more importantly, they couldn’t hear Jill.
One of the boys stayed in the doorway. He was in charge. A runty kid named Hank. The stocking pulled down over his face smashed his features into Play-Doh, but it could only be Hank.
One of the boys, fat but fast-moving and wearing an Easter Bunny mask, stepped to Derek and hit him in the stomach with his aluminum baseball bat.
Derek dropped to his knees.
Another boy grabbed Jill. He put his hand over her mouth. Someone produced a roll of duct tape.
Jill screamed. Derek tried to stand, but the blow to his stomach had winded him. He tried to stand up, but the fat boy pushed him back down.
“Don’t be stupid, Derek. We’re not after you.”
The duct tape went around and around Jill’s mouth. They worked by flashlight. Derek could see Jill’s eyes, wild with terror. Pleading silently with her big brother to save her.
When her mouth was sealed, the thugs pulled off their shooter’s earmuffs.
Hank stepped forward. “Derek, Derek, Derek,” Hank said, shaking his head slowly, regretfully. “You know better than this.”
“Leave her alone,” Derek managed to gasp, clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit.
“She’s a freak,” Hank said.
“She’s my little sister. This is our home.”
“She’s a freak,” Hank said. “And this house is east of First Avenue. This is a no-freak zone.”
“Man, come on,” Derek pleaded. “She’s not hurting anyone.”
“It’s not about that,” a boy named Turk said. He had a weak leg, a limp that made it impossible not to recognize him. “Freaks with freaks, normals with normals. That’s the way it has to be.”
“All she does is—”
Hank’s slap stung. “Shut up. Traitor. A normal who stands up for a freak gets treated like a freak. Is that what you want?”
“Besides,” the fat boy said with a giggle, “we’re taking it easy on her. We were going to fix her so she could never sing again. Or talk. If you know what I mean.”
He pulled a knife from a sheath in the small of his back. “Do you, Derek? Do you understand?”
Derek’s resistance died.
“The Leader showed mercy,” Turk said. “But the Leader isn’t weak. So this freak either goes west, over the border right now. Or…” He let the threat hang there.
Jill’s tears flowed freely. She could barely breathe because her nose was running. Derek could see that by the way she sucked tape into her mouth, trying for air. She would suffocate if they didn’t let her go soon.
“Let me at least get her doll.”
― Michael Grant, Lies

“This was his first trip on the Ossifar Distana, his first real splash in life. Look what it got him. Mister Smiff liked anonymity. He kept a low profile, often traveling under assumed names, claiming to be anything from a banker to a (very) successful life insurance salesman. He’d never broken the law, at least not irreparably. He was quite generous, well liked, sponsoring many charities anonymously – which is why it was so surprising to find him floating face down in the private spa in his apartment, murdered. He had been murdered, unless it was a freak shaving accident. Those old razors weren’t called cut-throats for nothing. Yikes.”
― Christina Engela, Dead Man's Hammer

“If you to get progress... less fuck is the formula + label people... and put yourself in high status...
you are there and you own the room... you ain't jealous, you ain't freak or blame.”
― Deyth Banger, How to Talk to Anyone

“Welcome to the freak show… BASTARDS!”
― Deyth Banger, Jokes From A

“Hör zu, ich bin der Freak. Ich bin der Abartige. Ich bin der Randalierer. Ich bin ständig in Prügeleien verwickelt. Ich lasse alle im Stich. Egal, was du tust, mach Finch bloß nicht wütend. Ach, fängt das schon wieder an, eine seiner Launen. Der launische Finch. Der wütende Finch. Der unberechenbare Finch. Der verrückte Finch. Aber ich bin keine Ansammlung von Symptomen. Kein Opfer von verkorksten Genen. Ich bin kein Problem. Keine Diagnose. Keine Krankheit. Nichts, was gerettet werden müsste. Ich bin ein Mensch.”
― Jennifer Niven, All the Bright Places

“The best move here is to simply listen and maintain eye contact. Your calmness is a primal attempt to telepathically reflect the insanity back to the freak so they’ll realize they’ve gone off the deep end. This can be rough because the freakout may be pointed directly at you, but even under attack, your job is the same: Listen. Nod. Repeat”
― Michael Lopp, Managing Humans: Biting and Humorous Tales of a Software Engineering Manager

“Properly timed and well-constructed questions lead your freak away from emotion because they force them to the other side of their brain where they don’t freak, they think.”
― Michael Lopp, Managing Humans: Biting and Humorous Tales of a Software Engineering Manager

“The key with a question offense is to move your freak from the emotional state to the rational one. I know I know and I know how good it feels when you’re stressed out to attack the source of that stress in what looks like a rational manner, but, um, you’re yelling, pointing your finger at me, and jumping up and down. Do you want me to react to the yelling or to the facts?”
― Michael Lopp, Managing Humans: Biting and Humorous Tales of a Software Engineering Manager

“People chatting away to themselves freak me out!”
― Steven Magee

“People who look unartistic create the most artistic art.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Night of a Thousand Thoughts

“I’m a big freak because I’m myself.”
― Clara Bow