quotation debate, part II
Hfox's last quote:
Memory, so complete and clear or so evasive, has to be ended, has to be put aside, as if one were leaving a chapel and bringing the prayer to an end in one's head. ~ Harold Brodkey |
One need not be a chamber to be haunted; |
^finally, something by Emily Dickinson that can't be sung to the tune of the Yellow Rose of Texas.
--------------------------------------------------------- The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side. ~Hunter S. Thompson |
every truth has two sides; it is as well to look at both before we commit ourselves to either.
aesop |
for the perfect idler, for the passionate observer it becomes an immense source of enjoyment to establish his dwelling in the throng, in the ebb and flow, the bustle, the fleeting and the infinite. to be away from home and yet to feel at home anywhere; to see the world, to be at the very center of the world, and yet to be unseen of the world, such are some of the minor pleasures of those independent, intense and impartial spirits, who do not lend themselves easily to linguistic definitions. the observer is a prince enjoying his incognito wherever he goes.
charles baudelaire |
what's wrong with society? what's wrong is that people give up searching and sit back and blend in with the crowd. but that's not who i want to be. blending in is not my thing.
kamanda ndama |
Will it blend ?
blendtec guy |
i'm afraid that everything will get homogenized and be the same.
- david byrne |
Same as it ever was
Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was Same as it ever was ~ david byrne |
Burn hollywood burn
~Public Enemy |
you say you don't wike it
I say you'we a wiar but when we kiiiiiiiiiiiisss it's wike fi-wuh. Robin Williams as Elmer Fudd as Bruce Springsteen. |
my wife has a slight impediment in her speech... every now and then she stops to breathe.
- jimmy durante |
i love you more than i have ever found a way to say to you.
ben folds |
ohhw LESLEY!!...thanks very much ... [regains composure] ... um..yeh well i've got this thing about my name, y'know, because it just sounds like a sort of sausage advert.
- billy mackenzie |
HANK: Don't you wish we could still say words like "meat" and "tool" and "unit" without someone turning it into something foul? Well, those are our words. I say we take 'em back.
|
BOBBY: I refuse to eat the white man's white meat!
|
Boredom is the root of all evil - the despairing refusal to be oneself.
~ Soren Kierkegaard |
We are all primary numbers divisible only by ourselves. ~Jean Guitton
|
wax statue of mine shall one day be seen at madam tussaud's
- omkar |
Fame like a wayward girl, will still be coy - To those who woo her with too slavish knees.
~ John Keats |
he shows great originality, which must be curbed at all cost.
peter ustinov |
them of those, i am who are phrasing sentences.
- charles michael de feo |
I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together
-John Lennon |
Gildersleeve: He-he-he-he-he. Kind of outsmarted you. Eh, little chum?
Bugs Bunny: Hey, wait. Wait a minute. Say that again. |
we would rather speak ill of ourselves than not talk about ourselves at all.
françois duc de la rochefoucauld |
thy sea, o god, so great, my boat so small! it cannot be that any happy fate, will me befall! - anon |
pure love produces pure nonsense.
jonathan klinger |
I'm section eight, Head to toe. I'm wearing a Warner bra. I like to play with dolls. My last wish is to be buried in my mother's wedding gown. I'm nuts.
~ Corporal Klinger |
The right to swing my fist ends where the other man's nose begins.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes |
Sometimes a person we love, through no fault of his own, can't see past the end of his nose.
~ Mary Poppins* * but what the fark would she know? ;) |
Sometimes I'm so sweet even I can't stand it.
~ Julie Andrews |
align yourself
resign yourself if you don't know who you are you can remind yourself -- Bottle Rockets |
well, i know who you are
and what league you played in bob dylan |
it wasn't him, charley, it was you. remember that night in the garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, "kid, this ain't your night. we're going for the price on wilson." you remember that? "this ain't your night"! my night! i coulda taken wilson apart! so what happens? he gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do i get? a one-way ticket to palookaville! you was my brother, charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. you shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so i wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money ... you don't understand, i coulda had class. i coulda been a contender. i coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what i am, let's face it. it was you, charley. |
... Games and sports aren’t about taking part or even about winning. Games and sports’re really about humiliating your enemies...
... About a third of the Runners got captured and turned into Bulldogs for the next pass. I hate that about British Bulldogs. It forces you to be a traitor... ... I just lay there and let them convert me into a Bulldog. In my heart I’d always be a Runner... David Mitchell: Black Swan Green |
Who are you really? And what were you before? And what did you do? And what did you think?
~Rick Blaine-Casablanca |
The weekend stretched ahead of him, one football game the extent of his plans. His living room was wreathed in shadows and cigarette smoke. He kept thinking of selling the flat, finding somewhere with fewer ghosts. Then again, they were the only company he had: dead colleagues, victims, expired relationships. He reached again for the bottle, but it was empty. Stood up and watched the floor sway beneath him. He thought he had a fresh bottle in the carrier bag beneath the window, but the bag was empty and crumpled. He looked out of his window, catching his reflection and its puzzled frown. Had he left a bottle in the car? Had he brought home two bottles or just one? He thought of a dozen places where he could get a drink. The city – his city – was out there waiting for him, waiting to show its dark, shrivelled heart.
Ian Rankin: Set in Darkness |
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!
~ Charles Dickens |
Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor. He talks as the man of his age talks, that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.
--Raymond Chandler |
And there would be the part she most enjoyed, the team get-together at the end of the day when AD, herself and Benton-Smith would ponder over the evidence, picking up, discarding or clicking the clues into place as they might the pieces of a jigsaw. But she knew the root of the small sprig of shame. Although they had never spoken of it she suspected that AD felt the same. With this jigsaw the pieces were the broken lives of men and women.
P.D. James: The Lighthouse |
| All times are GMT -3. The time now is 07:13 PM. |
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.6.5
Copyright ©2000 - 2021, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.