Quotes About Quote

There are those who have condemned Leary as a liar, a sellout, an opportunist, and most of all, a raging egomaniac; but the truth is, he was simply Irish.

those rare homes in which it's spoken with any regularity are likely under police surveillance.

On the subject of Egypt, Ellen Cherry was so vague she thought Ramses II was a jazz piano player.

The way bewilderment lies upon me, I have no need of blanket. In

Misquoted, distorted, diluted, and deified. In that order. At the hands of his worshipers, Jesus suffered a far worse fate than crucifixion. You have a lovely ass.

If you want to change something by Tuesday, theater is no good. Journalism is what does that. But, if you want to just alter the chemistry of the moral matrix, then theater has a longer half-life.

Belinsky: 'Who is this Moloch that eats his children?' Herzen: 'It's the Ginger Cat.

Do not dabble in paradox, Edward, it puts you in danger of fortuitous wit.

POLEVOY (to Chaadaev)     But no doubt you have read Kukolnik's play? CHAADAEV     No … I started to read it, but after a while I seemed to lose interest, and I was still on the title. Stankevich

Mrs Chater demanded satisfaction and now you are demanding satisfaction. I cannot spend my time day and night satisfying the demands of the Chater family.

Noakes (bleating) Lord Little has one very similar – Lady Croom I cannot relieve Lord Little's misfortunes by adding to my own. Pray, what is this rustic hovel that presumes to superpose itself on my gazebo?

Bryn Mawr had done what a four-year dose of liberal education was designed to do: unfit her for eighty percent of the useful work of the world.

Language can never 'pin down' slavery, genocide, war. Nor should it yearn for the arrogance to be able to do so. Its force, its felicity, is in its reach toward the ineffable.

124 was spiteful. Full of baby's venom

Everywhere, everywhere, children are the scorned people of the earth.

Which was what love was: unmotivated respect.

The visionary language of the doomed reaches heights of linguistic ardor with which language of the blessed and saved cannot compete.

He would keep the rest where it belonged: in that tobacco tin buried in his chest where a red heart used to be.

Oh, yeah. I got big plans. He swallowed twice from the bottle. Any planning in a bottle is short, thought Stamp.

No, and if it's not your brain thinking cold, cold thoughts, which you can dress in any kind of mood, then it's nothing. It has to be a cold, cold thought. I mean cold, or cool at least. Your brain. That's all there is.

124 WAS SPITEFUL. Full of a baby's venom. The women in the house knew it and so did the children. For

as pale and sad as "lite" beer

She stopped then and turned her face toward him and the hateful wind.

She was a tall woman with unfashionable hips and a long chestnut braid singing down her back.