Quotes About Author

Mrs. Gilbert added flavor to his adventure by being impressed with his courage in braving the harsh air.

Sono lo Sceicco d'Arabia Il tuo amore mi appartiene. Di notte, quando non riesci a dormire, ti adulerò nella tua tenda.

Now when a man is as right as that in his forecasts, there is some reason to think he may be right in his premises.

For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face

Claude Pistal is a creep! He is lucky I'm reasonably mild-mannered like Clark Kent.

Glimpses of World History

spending, by one estimate, $5.4 trillion on the "War on Terror.

The issue is not the issue," meaning the real conflict is not over any particular matter or dispute. "The issue is power.

hito iyashiku / ran no atai o / ronji keri Men are disgusting. They argue over The price of orchids.

Among the graffiti The name of Beloved you. AK

you. We can drive to Argone and talk to Constance. She has documented records

Santal perfume on her wrists. It had a subtle woodsy fragrance. She was happy she had gotten off the patchouli kick years ago. How she

a fuss he made over them. "Why, I bet you're the prettiest little girl I've seen all day!" he'd whisper confidentially

I'm not in court, because crime has taken a holiday, and I already locked up all the bad guys.

pot of coffee. By the time she packed up her work and sent it off, the coffeepot would be empty

Perhaps it's my destiny to remain a book-keeper for ever and for poetry and literature to remain simply butterflies that alight on my head and merely underline my own ridiculousness by their very beauty.

Heine said that every great tragedy was followed by a general blowing of noses. As a Jew, he saw all too clearly the universal nature of humanity.

I'd like to write the encomium of a new incoherence that could serve as the negative charter for the new anarchy of souls.

The love of absurdity and paradox is the animal happiness of the sad.

The letters from the ink in my pen are an absurd map of magic signs.

Perhaps it's my destiny to remain a book-keeper for ever and for poetry and literature to remain simply butterflies that alight on my head and merely underline my own ridiculousness by their very beauty.

back home.. the tablecloth of civilization makes us forget the already painted pine it covers! ([50], Zenith trans.)

No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it. Collective thought is stupid because it's collective.

To publish – the socialization of one's self. A vile necessity! But still not a real act, since it's the publisher who makes money, the printer who produces. It at least has the merit of being incoherent.