Quotes About Quote

It's worse in Philly!

Mr. Incandenza, this is the Enfield Raw Sewage Commission, and quite frankly we've had enough shit out of you.

Absolutely no, no, nothing got recorded or filmed. Reality being camera-free, being the joke I'll again underline.

It's the combination of improbability with an independently given pattern that discredits chance.

As sure, therefore, as there is any wisdom in praying for the Spirit of God, so sure is it, that we are to make that Spirit the rule of all our actions;

It is in the nature and instinct of some women. Some are made to scheme, and some to love; and I wish any respected bachelor that reads this may take the sort that best likes him.

The stiff-backed prig, with his dandified airs and West End swagger.

his first and only love, whom he had adored ever since when? – ever since yesterday, ever since for ever.

let me whisper my belief, entre nous, that of those eminent philosophers who cry out against parsons the loudest, there are not many who have got their knowledge of the church by going thither often.

dancing over it—had this happened a week ago, Sir

My wife says you have been singing like an angel,' he said to Becky. Now there are angels of two kinds, and both sorts, it is said, are charming in their way.

The pilot of the other Apache was my superior. Calling him an asshole is an insult to our anatomy.

there is another launch against the United States." "Wish we had made that message clearer before the Day," Makala said softly, her voice filled with bitterness.

I have managed to conceal my madness fairly effectively, and as far as I know it hasn't hurt anybody badly, for which I am grateful.

You know the look: genius gone to pot, and ready to join the Communist Party

Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.

What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

A sad tale's best for winter: I have one of sprites and goblins.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO: Yes, just. JAQUES: I do not like her name. ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.

This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.