Low Quotes (page 6)
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At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilised races of man will almost certainly exterminate and replace throughout the world the savage races. At the same time the anthropomorphous apes, as Professor Schaaffhausen has remarked, will no doubt be exterminated. The break will then be rendered wider, for it will intervene between man in a more civilised state as we may hope, than the Caucasian and some ape as low as a baboon, instead of as at present between the...
Charles Darwin
She said she knew we were safe with you, and always would be, because once, when she asked you to, you'd given up the thing you most wanted." Archer received this strange communication in silence. His eyes remained unseeingly fixed on the thronged sunlit square below the window. At length he said in a low voice: "She never asked me.
Edith Wharton
Sense never fails to give them that have it, Words enough tomake them understood. It too often happens in some conversations, as in Apothecary Shops, that those Pots that are Empty, or have. Things of small Value in them, are as gaudily Dress'd as those thatare full of precious Drugs. They that soar too high, often fall hard, making a low and level. Dwelling preferable. The tallest Trees are most in the Power of the. Winds, and Ambitious Men of the Blasts of Fortune. Buildings haveneed of a...
William Penn
All literature, highbrow or low, from the Aeneid onward, is fan fiction....Through parody and pastiche, allusion and homage, retelling and reimagining the stories that were told before us and that we have come of age loving--amateurs--we proceed, seeking out the blank places in the map that our favorite writers, in their greatness and negligence, have left for us, hoping to pass on to our own readers--should we be lucky enough to find any--some of the pleasure that we ourselves have taken in...
Michael Chabon
THE POLITICIAN
If it wasn't for graft, you'd get a very low type of people in politics. Men without ambition. Jellyfish!
CATHERINE
Especially since you can't rob the people anyway.
THE POLITICIAN
Sure...How was that?
CATHERINE
What you rob, you spend. And what you spend goes back to the people. So where's the robbery? I read that in one of my father's books.
THE POLITICIAN
That book should be in every home!
Preston Sturges
song of elli (old age)"What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain. What is gone is gone... What is sea-born dies on land, Soft is trod upon. What is given burns the hand -What is gone is gone... Here is there, and high is low; All may be undone. What is true, no two men know -What is gone is gone... Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose -What is gone is gone.
Peter S. Beagle
But technology is the real skin of our species. Humanity, correctly seen in the context of the last five hundred years, is an extruder of technological material. We take in matter that has a low degree of organization; we put it through mental filters, and we extrude jewelry, gospels, space shuttles. This is what we do. We are like coral animals embedded in a technological reef of extruded psychic objects. All our tool making implies our belief in an ultimate tool. That tool is the flying...
Terence McKenna
Tessio Zizmo had been a virgin when she married Milton Stephanides at the age of 22. Their engagement, which coincided with the Second World War, had been a chaste affair. My mother was proud of the way she'd managed to simultaneously kindle and snuff my father's flame, keeping him at a low burn for the duration of a global cataclysm.... She didn't surrender until after Japan had.
Jeffrey Eugenides
Have I mentioned that I expect death around every turn, that every blue sky has a safe sailing out of it, that every bus runs me over, that every low, mean syllable uttered in my direction seems to intimate the violence of murder, that every family seems like an opportunity for ruin and every marriage a ceremony into which calamity will fall and hearts will be broken and lives destroyed and people branded by the mortifications of love?
Rick Moody
A few stray white bread crumbs lay on the cleanly washed floor by the table; putting the lamp upon a low stool he began to pick up the drumbs, carrying them to his mouth one by one with unbelievable rapidity. In the dense blotch of light beneath the table, the kneeling figure looked like a priest engaged in some service of his church. The nervous expressive fingers, flashing in and out of the light, might well have been mistaken for the fingers of the devotee going swiftly through decade...
Sherwood Anderson