Ah, don't hate the English. They're just wankers. We are colonized by wankers. We can't even pick a decent, vibrant, healthy culture to be colonized by. No. We're ruled by effete assholes. What does that make us?

— Irvine Welsh

Ah,'m thinking about shouting 'stop' but ah could never turn away at this point. If smack is as addictive as they say, then ah'm already aw the junky ah'm ever gunny be.

— Irvine Welsh

Ah, remember walking along Princes Street WI Spud, we both hate walking along that hideous street, deadened by tourists and shoppers, the twin curse a modern capitalism.

— Irvine Welsh

Ah, sorta just laugh when some cats say that racism's an English thing, and we're aw Jock Samson's bairn up here. . . It's like say pure white man, badges talking through their verses.

— Irvine Welsh

A standing prick hath no conscience. And if that standing prick is attached to Bruce Robertson then it hath less than no conscience. You can't afford a conscience in this life, that has become a luxury for the rich and a social ball and chain for the rest of us. Even if I wanted one, which I certainly do not, I wouldn't have the faintest idea as how to go about getting one.

— Irvine Welsh

Bit it's what ban a hard man is aw about; it's a journey, a fucking self-destructive quest TAE find air limits, because they fucking limits axis come in the for may a harder man. A big. Strong, stiff hard man what can DAE it for ye, what can teach ye, show ye where ye stand, where air fucking parameters your.

— Irvine Welsh

But even Es and cocaine, over the years they blow holes in your brain, rob you of your memories, your past. Which is fair enough, convenient even.

— Irvine Welsh

Can you taste it Bruce? Can you taste the filth, the dirt, the oily blackness of that fossil fuel in our mouth as you choke and gag and spit it out? Do you still hear his voice in your head urging you to eat? Eat, eat. Your mother's cries. Do you hear them? You should be Bruce. Because I know that it's never left you alone. Now you can eat what you want to eat. For me, for you, for all the others. Now you can consume to your heart's content or your soul's destruction, whichever comes first. So eat.

— Irvine Welsh

Even as I'm shoveling up my hooter, I realize the sad truth. Coke bores me, It bores us all. We're jaded cunts, in a scene we hate, a city we hate, pretending that we're at the center of the universe, trashing ourselves with crap drugs to stave off the feeling that real life is happening somewhere else, aware that all we're doing is feeding that paranoia and disenchantment, yet somehow we're too apathetic to stop. Cause, sadly, there's nothing else of interest to stop for.

— Irvine Welsh

Everybody in my family were great storytellers. My dad and his brothers would just go on and on; they could tell amazing stories. I think it was something to do with the Celtic, oral storytelling tradition. People very much had that propensity towards telling tales.

— Irvine Welsh