Wednesday, October 31, 2012
The poem I write today grins / While I chop it like a mean boy
"He had a little teapot on the desk beside him and he kept picking it up and listening to it. He told me my poem should have a dead person in it."
-from "Mean Boy" by Lynn Coady
"Non-creative? I'll have you know i bedazzle my own underpants!"
-Fry, from Futurama
"Oh! Speaking of words..."
"There are two kinds of people: those who make there-are-two-kinds-of-people lists, and those who don't."
Yesterday, when Rachel came to dress me for dinner, I saw that she had been crying. I wanted to know the cause of it, but she seemed reluctant to tell. Was she unwell? No. Had she heard bad news from her friends? No. Had any of the servants vexed her?
'Oh, no, ma'am!' she answered; 'it's not for myself.'
'What then, Rachel? Have you been reading novels?'
-from "Tenant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Brontë
Jenny: "Graham might become a famous author, for all you know."
Father: "Becoming one isn't the same as knowing one."
-from An Education
Vladimir: "You should have been a poet."
Estragon: "I was." (Gestures towards rags.) "Isn't that obvious?"
-from "Waiting for Godot" by Samuel Beckett
Me: "That's the problem with fiction- everyone just sits around staring at each other, full of meaning."
My sister: "Unlike poetry, where there are no people and nothing ever happens."