Society, civilized society at least, is never very ready to believe anything to the detriment of those who are both rich and fascinating.
Oscar WildeAbout author
- Author's profession: Playwright, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: irish
- Born: October 16, 1854
- Died: November 30, 1900
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I like to call a spade a spade in politics and in everything else. That's why the zionists and the americans...The top officials hate Saddam Hussein.The White House is lying once again. He's a liar.He's the world's number one liar.He said there were chemical weapons in Iraq, and that Iraq is connected with terrorism.Later he declared: 'We didn't find any of this in Iraq.'What I want to say is that he also declared that what Saddam Hussein says is not true...This is defamation of your...
Saddam Hussein
It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and then the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it.
Samuel Beckett
Who was she, what was she that she should hold herself superior? What view of life, what design upon fate, what conception of happiness, had she that she pretended to be larger than this large occasion? If she would not do this, then she must do great things, she must do something greater.
Henry James
Writing fiction is not a profession that leaves one well-disposed toward reading fiction. One starts out loving books and stories, and then one becomes jaded and increasingly hard to please. I read less and less fiction these days, finding the buzz and the joy I used to get from fiction in ever stranger works of non-fiction, or poetry.
Neil Gaiman
Parker had a young white boy with him-one of the neurotic tribe of the lost- and the kid's eyes were filled with wet layers of tears. One big tear in each eye. They did not drop out. It was fascinating. I had seen women sit and look at me with those same eyes before they got mad and started screaming about what a son of a bitch I was.
Charles Bukowski
