Ther Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 37 quotes )
Ther?s this thing called progress. But it does?t progress. It does?t go anywhere. Because as progress progresses the world can slip away. I?s progress if you can stop the world slipping away. My humble model for progress I the reclamation of land. Which is repeatedly, never-ending retrieving what it lost. A dogged and vigilant business. A dull yet valuable business. A hard, inglorious business. But you should?t go mistaking the reclamation of land for the building of empires.
Ther?s one kind of writing tha?s always easy: Picking out something obviously stupid and reiterating how stupid it obviously is. This is the lowest form of criticism, easily accomplished by anyone. And for most of my life, I have tried to avoid this. In fact, ?ve spend an inordinate amount of time searching for the underrated value in ostensibly stupid things. I understand Turtl?s motivation and I would have watched Medelin in the theater. I read Mary Worth every day for a decade. ?ve seen Korn in concert three times and liked them once. I went to The Day After Tomorrow on opening night. I own a very expensive robot that does?t do anything. I am open to the possibility that everyting has metaphorical merit, and I see no point in sardonically attacking the most predictable failures within any culture.
The funny thing is, ?m actually quite interested in the Bible, and ?ve tried to read it several times. But ?ve only ever got as far as the bit about Moses being 720 years old, and ?m like, `What were these people smoking back then? The bottom line is I do?t believe in a bloke called God in a white suit who sits on a fluffy cloud any more than I believe in a bloke called the Devil with a three-pronged fork and a couple of horns. But I believe that ther?s day, ther?s night, ther?s good, ther?s bad, ther?s black, ther?s white. If there is a God, i?s nature. If ther?s a Devil, i?s nature.
Grandfather looked away from me and out to sea, and when he spoke, it was as though he spoke to himself.?The obligations of normal human kindness? chesed, as the Hebrew has it? that we all owe. But ther?s a kind of vanity in thinking you can nurse the world. Ther?s a kind of vanity in goodness?I could hardly believe my ears.?But are?t we supposed to be good?
I can explain, Ther?s no need, ?ve been keeping regular track of your activities, and, besides, your notebook has been a great help to me, may I take the opportunity to congratulate you on the excellent style and the appropriateness of the language, ?ll hand in my resignation tomorrow, I wo?t accept it.
The dark and the snow are too thick for him to see beyond the first trees. H?s been in there before at this time, when the dark shuts down in early winter. But now he pays attention, he notices something about the bush that he thinks he has missed those other times. How tangled up in itself it is, how dense and secret. I?s not a matter of one tree after another, i?s all the trees together, aiding and abetting one another and weaving into one thing. A transformation, behind your back.Ther?s another name for the bush, and this name is stalking around in his mind, in and out of where he can almost grasp it. But not quite. I?s a tall word that seems ominous but indifferent.
Wha?s precious about somebody like Bill Vollmann is that, even though ther?s a great deal of formal innovation in his fictions, it rarely seems to exist for just its own sake. I?s almost always deployed to make some point (Vollman?s the most editorial young novelist going right now, and h?s great at using formal ingenuity to make the editorializing a component of his narrative instead of an interruption) or to create an effect tha?s internal to the text. His narrato?s always weirdly effaced, the writing unself-conscious, despite all the "By-the-way-Dear-reader" intrusions. In a way i?s sad that Vollman?s integrity is so remarkable. Its remarkability means i?s rare
Beauty and art, no doubt, pervade all business of life like a kindly genius, and form the bright adornment of all our surroundings, both mental and material, soothing the sadness of our condition and the embarrassments of real life, killing time in entertaining fashion, and where ther?s nothing to be achieved, occupying the place of what is vicious, better, at any rate, than vice.
?ve had many enemies over the years. If ther?s one thing ?ve learned, i?s never engage in a fight yo?re sure to lose. On the other hand, never let anyone who has insulted you get away with it. Bide your time and strike back when yo?re in a position of strengt?even if you no longer need to strike back.
We shall creep out quietly into the butler's pantry--" cried the Mole."--with out pistols and swords and sticks--" shouted ther Rat."--and rush in upon them," said Badger."--and whack 'em, and whack 'em, and whack 'em!" cried the Toad in ecstasy, running round and round the room, and jupming over the chairs.
In your handsThe dog, the donkey, surely they know They are alive.Who would argue otherwise?But now, after years of consideration, I am getting beyond that.What about the sunflowers? What about The tulips, and the pines?Listen, all you have to do is start and Ther?ll be no stopping.What about mountains? What about water Slipping over rocks?And speaking of stones, what about The little ones you can Hold in your hands, their heartbeats So secret, so hidden it may take yearsBefore, finally, you hear them?
I?s my own fault, really. For believing in fairy tales. Not that I ever mistook them for actual historical fact, or anything. But I did grow up believing that for every girl, ther?s a prince out there somewhere. All she has to do is find him. Then i?s on with thehappily ever after. So you can only imagine what happened when I found out. That my prince really IS one. A prince. No, I really mean it. H?s an actual PRINCE.