Comeuppance Quotes

“If we suffer from an unbearable mean world syndrome and fear we will get a comeuppance anytime, let us endeavor to defeat the inner rejections of buoyancy and confidence, liberate our subdued lust of freedom, start to enliven the bleak outlook of our life story, and technicolor the sky of our expectations. ("With confidence")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Besides," said Suriyawong. "This was not a rescue operation."
"What was it, target practice? Chinese skeet?"
"An offer of transportation to an invited guest of the Hegemon," said Suriyawong. "And the loan of a knife."
Achilles held up the bloody thing, dangling it from the point. "Yours?" he asked.
"Unless you want to clean it," said Suriyawong.
Achillese handed it to him. Suriyawong took out his cleaning kit and wiped down the blade, then began to polish it.
"You wanted me to die," said Achilles quietly.
"I expected you to solve your own problems," said Suriyawong.”
― Orson Scott Card, Shadow Puppets

“I asked Hillary why she had chosen Yale Law School over Harvard. She laughed and said, "Harvard didn't want me." I said I was sorry that Harvard turned her down. She replied, "No, I received letters of acceptance from both schools." She explained that a boyfriend had then invited her to the Harvard Law School Christmas Dance, at which several Harvard Law School professors were in attendance. She asked one for advice about which law school to attend. The professor looked at her and said, "We have about as many woen as we need here. You should go to Yale. The teaching there is more suited to women." I asked who the professor was, and she told me she couldn't remember his name but that she thought it started with a B. A few days later, we met the Clintons at a party. I came prepared with yearbook photos of all the professors from that year whose name began with B. She immediately identified the culprit. He was the same professor who had given my A student a D, because she didn't "think like a lawyer." It turned out, of course, that it was this professor -- and not the two (and no doubt more) brilliant women he was prejudiced against - who didn't think like a lawyer. Lawyers are supposed to act on the evidence, rather than on their prejudgments. The sexist professor ultimately became a judge on the International Court of Justice.

I told Hillary that it was too bad I wasn't at that Christmas dance, because I would have urged her to come to Harvard. She laughed, turned to her husband, and said, "But then I wouldn't have met him... and he wouldn't have become President.”
― Alan Dershowitz

“Why can’t I remember that not once have I ever seen a coin, whether grimy copper or bright gold, that had but one side.”
― Andrew Levkoff, A Mixture of Madness

“Your enemies call it comeuppance
and relish the details
of a drug too fine, how long
you must have dangled there beside yourself.
In the middle distance of your
twenty-ninth year, night split open
like a fighter's bruised palm,
a purple ripeness.

Friends shook their heads.
With you it was always
the next attractive trouble,
as if an arranged marriage had been made
in a country of wing walkers, lion tamers,
choirboys leaping from bellpulls
into the high numb glitter, and you,
born with the breath of wild on your tongue
brash as gin.

True, it was charming for a while.
Your devil's balance, your debts.
Then no one was laughing.
Hypodermic needles and cash registers
emptied themselves in your presence.
Cars went head-on.
Sympathy, old motor, ran out
or we grew old, our tongues
wearing little grooves in our mouths
clucking disappointment.

Michael, what pulled you up
by upstart roots
and set you packing,
left the rest of us here, body-heavy
on the edge of our pews.
Over the reverend's lament
we could still hear laughter, your mustache
the angled black wings
of a perfect crow. Later
we taught ourselves the proper method for mourning
haphazard life: salt, tequila, lemon.
Drinking and drifting
in your honor we barely felt a thing.”
― Dorothy Barresi, All of the Above

“The day after he had proposed to Beatrix, Christopher had reluctantly gone to talk to Prudence. He was prepared to apologize, knowing that he had not been fair in his dealings with her. However, any trace of remorse he might have felt for having deceived Prudence vanished as soon as he saw that Prudence felt no remorse for having deceived him.
It had not been a pleasant scene, to say the least. A plum-colored flush of rage had swept across her face, and she had stormed and shrieked as if she were unhinged.
"You can't throw me over for that dark-haired gargoyle and her freakish family! You'll be a laughingstock. Half of them are Gypsies, and the other half are lunatics- they have few connections and no manners, they're filthy peasants and you'll regret this to the end of your days. Beatrix is a rude, uncivilized girl who will probably give birth to a litter."
As she had paused to take a breath, Christopher had replied quietly, "Unfortunately, not everyone can be as refined as the Mercers."
The shot had gone completely over Prudence's head, of course, and she had continued to scream like a fishwife.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Beware the storyteller with a huge grievance and an artistic license.”
― Joyce Rachelle

“The avarice, the hunger for materialistic possessions and the dependency upon alcohol had gradually become stronger and stronger. And now, it was the sum total of what she was.”
― Sue Fortin, Closing In

“If he’s indeed going mad, he deserves it…”
― A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

“Mr & Mrs Love by Stewart Stafford

The elephant in town remembered,
Mr & Mrs Love were stony pariahs,
Gossip branded them the greatest,
"See You Next Tuesdays" around.

They repeatedly bounced cheques,
Juggled their finances in tax havens,
Pledged charity money and reneged,
Refused to give gifts or Halloween candy.

Then the piper called for his payment,
It came on a day of more wrongdoing,
Served a hefty portion of just desserts,
With a surprise audit by Mr & Mrs IRS.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Eye of Karma by Stewart Stafford

Do we still rationalise things we do?
Karma's cold, clear eye sees through,
Soiled laundry aired for the public to see,
A looking glass raised to gross misdeeds.

No compunction, an inflaming sick note,
Deaf to the plea bargains began by rote,
Facing peccadilloes that seek redress,
Damaging overflow of avarice and hubris.

Poison sucked from self-flagellation wounds,
The stinging venom disgorged and plumed,
A penalty passed with the gavel in hand,
Purge those failings with goodwill planned.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Do not manhandle me. My answer is no. I'm not for sale."
"But you don't have any family left," said Nicolas, raising an eyebrow.
The next few moments blurred together into one messed-up vision. A fist flying into Nicolas's nose. A loud crack. Blood splattering on Camille's dress. Rémi putting his arm around me. Jane, Phillipa, and Marie racing up to see what the commotion was all about. The clicks of cameras. A nightmare.
"This is private property. You're no longer guests of the château. Leave now," said Rémi as Nicolas scrambled up from the ground. "And stay away, far away from my fiancée, or I'll hunt you down."
Jane, Marie, and Phillipa flanked my sides, supporting my shaky body. Phillipa hissed to Nicolas. "You're wrong. Sophie has a family. She has all of us. And her dad."
I couldn't help but smile. What Phillipa said was true. I had everything.
"He broke my nose," said Nicolas, holding his hand up to his face, blood pouring down like a waterfall. "I'm going to press charges against you, all of you, you pieces of merde."
"Go ahead," said Rémi. "We may not be as wealthy as you are, but we're not doing so bad. You can try to destroy us, but if you know Sophie as well as I do, you know she fights back. And hard. Believe me. Nothing, not you, not me, will stand in her way. You're the only one with a reputation to lose---and from what I've read, most people think you're the scum of the earth."
Camille walked up the steps. "I'm out of here." She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I should have known. Small dick, small mind."
"I do not have a small dick," screamed Nicolas, his face turning red.
The guests from the Sunday lunch clasped their hands over their mouths. I felt like I was the star of a B movie. Who were these people? Cartoon characters?
"Oh, yes, you have a small penis. The smallest one I've ever seen," said Camille, winking at me. "And you think with it. Now, take me back to Paris so I can get rid of you. That is, unless you want my Instagram to blow up. Don't forget. I have pictures of your cornichon."
Nicolas raced after Camille. "You salope, those pictures are private."
Camille placed her hands on her skinny hips. "For now," she said.
I had to give Camille credit when it was due; she wasn't a brain-dead model, she was fierce.”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“It took one long week for the fairies to track down every boy who had been turned into a donkey, and Mirabella and Agata personally sought out the Coachman, Honest John, Gideon, and Stromboli, and other servants of the Heartless and ensured that the villains were taught just lessons for their evil behavior. Stromboli, for instance, was plagued with nightmares that his puppets came to life and attacked him, and Honest John and Gideon dreamt that they drowned in piles of golden coins.
But for the Coachman, who was so evil that no lesson would redeem him, Ilaria used the last of her Heartless magic and turned him into a donkey. In the pastures of Pariva, he spent the rest of his days gnawing on hay and grass and braying unpleasantly whenever young boys laughed at his smell.”
― Elizabeth Lim, When You Wish Upon a Star

“Some have suggested that the preponderance of trickster stories in folklore ranging from the Norse Loki to the Coyote of the New World may have in their origins stories of bargains gone awry, though the opposite may be as likely to be true--- that stories of human pride's comeuppance are a commonplace theme.
---Changelings and Gambler's Chances: Tales of Fairy Mischief,
by William Fitzgerald”
― Rowenna Miller, The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill

“Tell me, Pierce, why do you think she left?"
"Why do---" He turned on her, his face a strange battle of anger and grief. "I don't know."
"I think you do." She stood, her height no match for his, but she pretended that she did. "You hit her, Pierce."
He was shamed into silence.
"And more than that. My sister is intelligent, and compassionate, and talented. And you--- you squandered those things about her. You told her, in action if not words, that she was less than the Perrysburg Graftons until she learned to be like them. You fool--- she was more. She is the best person I have ever known, and I hope she stays far away from you."
Alaine caught her breath, her heart racing. Pierce only stared at her, anger boiling behind his eyes. "I only ever wanted to help her."
"Help her!" Alaine bit back laughter that was too close to hysterical. "Help her do what, Pierce? The only thing you wanted was for her to help you. To be a perfect Perrysburg Grafton, arranging your parties and making you look good. Well, she's worth more than that.”
― Rowenna Miller, The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill