Quotes About Homer

Lisa: Well, where's my Dad? Professor Frink: Well, that should be obvious to even the most dimwitted individual who holds an advanced degree in hyperbolic topology that Homer Simpson has stumbled into...the third dimension.

'Homer and Langley' is the work of E. L. Doctorow's old age. There are fewer Homeric references than you might have expected, given that the narrator is called Homer Collyer and is blind, although, like the classical Homer, not born blind.

The well-known inspiration for 'Ulysses' is made clear by the title itself: Joyce's novel is based on Homer's 'Odyssey', under the ever-fascinating premise that all of Odysseus' extraordinary adventures can be experienced by a modern man in a single day, provided that the writing consists of his mental activity.

Neve plonked the chicken down on the table, then stood there with arms folded. 'Give Max his presents, then I'll feed you,' she commanded. The Tesco's bag was handed over and Max pulled out two bottles of Cava (which Neve knew were in a two for five pounds promotion), a small box of Quality Street and a pair of Homer Simpson socks. 'My God, have you no shame?

It was in Alexandria that the circumference of the earth was first measured, the sun fixed at the center of the solar system, the workings of the brain and the pulse illuminated, the foundations of anatomy and physiology established, the definitive editions of Homer produced. It was in Alexandria that Euclid had codified geometry.

No text more thoroughly penetrated Cleopatra's world. In an age infatuated with history and calibrated in glory, Homer's work was the Bible of the day.

It was in Alexandria that the circumference of the earth was first measured, the sun fixed at the center of the solar system, the workings of the brain and the pulse illuminated, the foundations of anatomy and physiology established, the definitive editions of Homer produced.

Once, in his first term, Cartwright had been bold enough to ask him why he was clever, what exercises he did to keep his brain fit. Healey had laughed. It's memory, Cartwright, old dear. Memory, the mother of the Muses... at least that's what thingummy said. Who? You know, what's his name, Greek poet chap. Wrote the Theogony... what was he called? Begins with an 'H'. Homer? No, dear. Not Homer, the other one. No, it's gone. Anyway. Memory, that's the key.

The Scripture stories do not, like Homer's, court our favor, they do not flatter us that they may please us and enchant us—they seek to subject us, and if we refuse to be subjected we are rebels.

The Bible's claim to truth is not only far more urgent than Homer's, it is tyrannical—it excludes all other claims. The world of the Scripture stories is not satisfied with claiming to be a historically true reality—it insists that it is the only real world, is destined for autocracy.

Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus, often translated as "Even Homer nods.

As Homer Simpson said to Marge when she warned him that he would regret his conduct, "That's a problem for future Homer. Man, I don't envy that guy.

All the critics who could not make their reputations by discovering you are hoping to make them by predicting hopefully your approaching impotence, failure and general drying up of natural juices. Not a one will wish you luck or hope that you will keep on writing unless you have political affiliations in which case these will rally around and speak of you and Homer, Balzac, Zola and Link Steffens.

READING HOMER'S POEMS is one of the purest, most inexhaustible pleasures life has to offer—a secret somewhat too well kept in our time.

Did the gods once mingle with humankind, or is Homer a visionary madman, or, what is worse, a mere poet, a maker-up of beautiful falsities, an elegant liar? I shall grapple with that perplexity, only to emerge as I went in, in a cloud of unknowing, if perhaps a little the wiser.

How do you spell 'solicitor'?" asked Freddy. "That's easy!" said Homer. "S-o-l-i-t-o-r." "Well, it can't be all that easy," said Freddy. "These dummies have it spelled with an 'e' on this card." And he held the card under Homer's nose. "I smell something funny!" Jeff said to me, very quietly. "It couldn't be Mr. Stunkard, could it?" I half whispered. Jeff shrugged. "Maybe it's Mr. Smellow!

One ought to know everything, to write. All of us scribblers are monstrously ignorant. If only we weren't lacking in stamina, what a rich field of ideas and similes we could tap! Books that have been the source of entire literatures, like Homer and Rabelais, contain the sum of all the knowledge of their times. They knew everything, those fellows, and we know nothing.

Homer is the nice side of Al Bundy with the same intellect. I really like him and Al Bundy.

the Invocation of the Muse from Homer's Odyssey, the T. E. Lawrence translation.

He conjures up the lemon groves of slumbrous Málaga, his lament carries hints of sea salt. Like Homer he sang blind. His voice had something of sea without light. . ." (. . .Evoca los limonares de Málaga la dormida, y hay en su llanto dejos de sal marina. Como Homero, cantó ciego. Su voz tenía algo de mar sin luz. . ." -- Federico García Lorca, Selected Poems (Puffin Modern Classics)

Homer was able to give us no information relating to the truth, for he wrote of human rather than divine things.

Homer's whole language, the language in which he lived, the language that he breathed, because he never saw it, or certainly those who formed his tradition never saw it, in characters on the pages. It was all on the tongue and in the ear.

Poliziano translated Homer. He wrote a great poem on Simonetta Vespucci, you know her?

I wish I had the voice of Homer to sing of rectal carcinoma.