Wednesday, December 8, 2004

More stuff probably none of you will ever sift through.
Here are more quotes. I'm too lazy to actually write anything today.

BY DOUGLAS ADAMS:
Life, the Universe, and Everything.

BY JOHN ADAMS:
I agree with you that in politics the middle way is none at all.

Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy that did not commit suicide.

BY ROBERT ALDEN:
There is not enough darkeness in all the world to put out the light of even one small candle.

BY SIR NORMAN ANGELL:
The Great Illusion

BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR:
I know why the caged bird sings . . .

BY VARIOUS ANONYMOUS:
his own worst enemy

A beast but just a beast.

The bloody deed was done.

Bring out your dead.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

‘Has anyone here been raped and speaks English?’ The callous cry summed up for me the tragic, yet wildly surrealish nature of the country itself.

He who has the sea has the shore
And the castle is his who has the plain;
But freedom dwells upon the mountain peaks.

Is there a life before death?

It is now proved beyond doubt that cigarettes are the biggest single cause of statistics.

I told you I was sick. --epitaph of a hypochondriac

The killing fields

The king is dead--long live the king!

Life’s a bitch, and then you die.

Lonely Are the Brave

May you live in interesting times.

We who are about to die salute you.

No one likes us--we don’t care.

Not as a stranger . . .

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

So deep is the night . . ./
So dark is the night . . .

Hear my song.

Stop the World, I Want to Get Off

The things that will destroy us are . . .
politics without principle,
pleasure without conscience;
wealth without work;
knowledge without character;
business without morality;
science without humanity; and
worship without sacrifice.

This is not a dress rehearsal, this is real life.

This must be the first time a rat has come to the aid of a sinking ship.

The tie that binds . . .

The time is now.

To save the town, it became necessary to destroy it.

To the world he was a soldier,
To me he was the world.

When Pictures Look Alive With Movement Free
When Ships Like Fishes Swim Beneath the Sea
When Men Outstripping Birds Can Scan the Sky
Then Half the World Deep Trenched in Blood Will Lie. --carved on a tombstone five hundred years ago

With twenty-six soldiers of lead, I can conquer the world.

BY ARCHIMEDES:
Give me but one firm spot on which to stand, and I with move the earth.

BY HANNAH ARENDT:
It was as though in those last minutes he was summing up the lessons that this long course in human wickedness had taught us--the lesson of the fearsome, word-and-thought-defying banality of evil.

BY ARISTOTLE:
Tragedy is thus a representation of an action that is worth serious attention, complete in itself and of some amplitude . . . by means of pity and fear bringing about the purgation of such emotions.

BY MATTHEW ARNOLD:
Beautiful city! So venerable, so lovely, so unravaged by the fierce intellectual life of our century, so serene! . . . Whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age . . . Home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular names, and impossible loyalties!

The sea is calm to-night,
The tide is full, the moon lies far
Upon the straits . . .
For the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams.

And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night. --from Armies of the Night

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light. He who works for sweetness and light, works to make reason and the will of God prevail.

BY MARGOT ASQUITH, LATER COUNTESS OF OXFORD AND ASQUITH:
He has a brilliant mind until he makes it up.

BY JOHN AUBREY:
How these curiosities would be quite forgot, did not such idle fellows as I am put them down.

Grubbing in churchyards. --his method of historical research

BY W.H. AUDEN:
The Dog Beneath the Skin

. . . The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day. . . .
The day of his death was a dark cold day . . .
Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
For poetry makes nothing happen . . .
Earth, receive an honored guest: . . .
Let the Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry.

A professor is one who talks in someone else’s sleep.

BY EMILE AUGIER:
Longing to be back in the mud.

BY JANE AUSTEN:
You have delighted us long enough.

BY FRANCIS BACON:
Three Screaming Popes

BY WALTER BAGEHOT:
. . . if you begin to poke about it you cannot reverence it . . . Its mystery is its life. We must not let in daylight upon magic.

BY STANLEY BALDWIN, LATER 1ST EARL BALDWIN OF BEWDLY:
The bomber will always get through.

Once I leave, I leave. I am not going to speak to the man on the bridge, and I am not going to spit on the deck.

BY ARTHUR BALFOUR, LATER 1ST EARL OF BALFOUR:
Nothing matters very much and very few things matter at all.

BY TALLULAH BANKHEAD:
There’s less in this than meets the eye.

BY MAURICE BARING:
If you would know what the Lord God thinks of money, you have only to look at those to whom He gave it.

Puppet Show of Memory

BY SIR JAMES BARRIE:
Greatest horror--dream I am married--wake up shrieking.

Second [star] to the right, and straight on till morning. --from Peter Pan

To die will be an awfully big adventure. --from Peter Pan

BY BERNARD BARUCH:
Let us not be deceived--we are today in the midst of a cold war.

BY C. HENRY BATEMAN:
There is a Happy Land

BY CHARLES BAUDELAIRE:
Hypocrite reader, my likeness, my brother! --’The Burial of the Dead’

BY 1ST BARON BEAVERBROOK (MAXWELL AITKEN):
Because he shakes hands with people’s hearts.
Go out and speak for the inarticulate and the submerged.

He did not care which direction the car was going, so long as he was in the driver’s seat.

BY TONY BENN:
If voting changed anything they would make it illegal.

BY ALAN BENNETT:
Life, you know, is rather like opening a tin of sardines. We’re all of us looking for the key.

So boring you fell asleep halfway through her name.

BY STELLA BENSON:
Call no man foe, but never love a stranger.

BY GEORGE BERKELY:
If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, it makes no sound.

The peasant starves in the midst of plenty.
BY IRVING BERLIN:
As Thousands Cheer

BY SIR JOHN BETJEMAN:
Ghastly Good Sense

Come friendly bombs, and fall on Slough.
It isn’t fit for humans now.

BY ANEURIN BEVAN:
No amount of cajolery, and no attempts at ethical or social seduction, can eradicate from my heart a deep and burning hatred for [them] that inflicted those experiences on me. So far as I am concerned they are lower than vermin.

In Place of Fear

We know what happens to people who stay in the middle of the road. They get run over.

. . . He must speak in calm and objective accents and talk about a dying child in the same way as he would about the pieces inside an internal combustion engine.

If we complain about the tune, there is no reason to attack the monkey when the organ grinder is present.

And you call that statesmanship? I call it an emotional spasm.

I read the newspaper avidly. It is my one form of continuous fiction.

BY ERNEST BEVIN:
Not while I’m alive, he ain’t.

The real tragedy of the poor is the poverty of their aspirations.

BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFFE:
I care for nobody, no, not I,
And nobody cares for me.

BY RODNEY BICKERSTAFFE:
--I wouldn’t spit in their mouths if their teeth were on fire.

BY AMBROSE BIERCE:
He had nothing to say and he said it.

BY NATHANIEL BIGG:
To each generation, that which preceded it must seem in some measure, according to its expectation of a hopeful futurity, the last age of innocence.

BY LAURENCE BINYON:
‘For the Fallen’
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

BY AUGUSTINE BIRRELL:
That great dust-heap called ‘history’.

One whom it was easy to hate but still easier to quote.

BY JOHN BIRT:
There is a bias in television journalism. It is not against any particular party or point of view--it is a bias against understanding.

BY OTTO VON BISMARCK:
Blood and iron.

BY WILLIAM BLAKE:
The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels and God, and at liberty when of Devils and Hell, is because he was a true Poet, and of the Devil’s party without knowing it.

If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.

This life’s five windows of the soul
Distort the Heavens from pole to pole,
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not thro’, the eye.

BY PIERRE BOSQUET:
It is magnificent, but it is not war.

BY RUTLAND BOUGHTON:
They land and are glad . . . are terrible!

BY LORD BOWEN:
We must ask ourselves what the man on the Clapham omnibus would think.

BY NICHOLAS BRETON:
A Mad World, My Masters

BY JOHN BRIGHT:
The angel of death has been abroad throughout the land; you may almost hear the beating of his wings.

BY RONALD BRITTAIN:
You ‘orrible little man.

BY COLONEL BRITTON:
The night is your friend.

BY EMILY BRONTE:
. . . may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad--only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! O God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!

BY RUPERT BROOKE:
These I have loved.

BY ANITA BROOKNER:
In real life, of course, it is the hare who wins. Every time. Look around you. And in any case it is my contention that Aesop was writing for the tortoise market . . . Hares have no time to read. They are too busy winning the game.

BY LORD BROUGHAM:
It adds a new terror to death.

BY JOHN MASON BROWN:
Some television programmes are so much chewing gum for the eyes.

BY SIR THOMAS BROWNE:
That children dream not in the first half year, that men dream not in some countries, are to me sick men’s dreams, dreams out of the ivory gate, and visions before midnight.

Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave.

BY ROBERT BROWNING:
Over my head his arm he flung
Against the world; and scarce I felt
His sword (that dripped by me and swung)
A little shifted in his belt.

BY ANTHONY BURGESS:
The End of the World News

BY 1ST LORD BURGHLEY (WILLIAM CECIL):
What! all this for a song?



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