* some views expressed in these quotations not neccesarily endorsed by the author of this file.
* for entertainment only - history is not an exact science - dates and quotes not guaranteed for accuracy.
Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds
sang there except those that sang best.
To err is dysfunctional, to forgive co-dependent.
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.
The worst part of success is to try finding someone who is happy for
you.
Art is like God: it has a long white beard and helps you win ball games.
To do easily what is difficult for others is the mark of talent. To do what
is impossible for talent is the mark of genius.
Genius does what it must, and talent does what it can.
No great genius is without an admixture of madness.
Get yer haggis right here! Chopped heart and lungs, boiled in a wee
sheep's stomach. Tastes as good as it sounds.
You can't have a lasting civilization without plenty of pleasant vices.
The large drawing-room was filled with cigarette-smoke
and screeching voices and raucous laughter and over-
dressed bodies and (from the record player) the muffled
blaring of a big band, very forties, very square. Funny how
the vast majority of the human race has to generate a
repulsive amount of noise before it can convince itself it's
having a good time.
I still believe that one can learn to play the piano by mail and that
mud will give you a perfect complexion.
I met the Maharishi once, or at least I think I did. There were so
many little men with gray beards and saffron robes roaming around the
States in the name of Transcendental Meditation 40 years ago that it
was difficult to tell them apart.
The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled.
I sleep as if injected
with a powerful experimental muscle relaxant. My legs fall open in a
grotesque come-hither manner; my knuckles brush the floor. Whatever
is inside--tongue, uvula, moist bubbles of intestinal air--decides to
leak out. From time to time, like one of those nodding-duck toys, my
head tips forward to empty a quart or so of viscous drool onto my lap,
then falls back to begin loading again with a noise like a toilet
cistern filling. And I snore, hugely and helplessly, like a cartoon
character, with rubbery flapping lips and prolonged steam-valve
exhalations. For long periods I grow unnaturally still, in a way that
inclines onlookers to exchange glances and lean forward in concern,
then dramatically I stiffen and, after a tantalizing pause, begin to
bounce and jostle in a series of whole-body spasms of the sort that
bring to mind an electric chair when the switch is thrown. Then I
shriek once or twice in a piercing and effeminate manner and wake up
to find that all motion within five hundred feet has stopped and all
children under eight are clutching their mother's hems. It is a
terrible burden to bear.
The Mind of man is less perturbed by a mystery it cannot explain than
by an explanation it cannot understand.