Prodigious Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
it-may-be-prodigious-but-its-all-greek-to-me-herge
fear-is-most-prodigious-enemy-our-soul-abhishek-shukla
those-with-prodigious-skill-in-music-are-better-suited-for-all-things-martin-luther
i-must-have-prodigious-amount-mind-it-takes-me-as-much-as-week-sometimes-to-make-it-up-mark-twain
i-must-have-prodigious-quantity-mind-it-takes-me-as-much-as-week-sometimes-to-make-it-up-mark-twain
i-must-have-a-prodigious-quantity-of-mind-it-takes-me-as-much-as-a-week-sometimes-to-make-it-up
thus-we-have-given-to-man-pedigree-prodigious-length-but-not-it-may-be-said-noble-quality-charles-darwin
lowkey-punchdrunk-off-this-sangriasweet-love-all-its-prodigious-trappings-brandi-l-bates
we-could-raise-prodigious-cities-create-nations-explore-universe
one-likes-people-much-better-when-theyre-battered-down-by-prodigious-siege-misfortune-than-when-they-triumph-virginia-woolf
i-wouldnt-even-begin-to-presume-that-talent-able-actor-is-anything-like-talents-prodigious-musician-juliet-stevenson
when-an-adult-creates-something-unique-it-is-experience-when-a-kid-constructs-anything-memorable-he-is-prodigious
let-us-people-who-are-uncommonly-clever-learned-have-great-tenderness-pity-for-poor-folks-who-are-not-endowed-with-prodigious-talents-which-we-william-makepeace-thackeray
it-is-one-prodigious-privileges-art-that-horrific-artistically-expressed-becomes-beauty-that-sorrow-given-rhythm-cadence-fills-spirit-with-charles-baudelaire
the-mind-artist-in-order-to-achieve-prodigious-effort-freeing-whole-entire-work-that-is-in-him-must-be-incandescentthere-must-be-no-obstacle-in-virginia-woolf
the-youth-have-prodigious-talent-for-inventing-progressive-ideas-alternative-courses-action-that-elude-jaded-inbox-minds-worndown-adults-ian-somerhalder
everything-belonged-to-him-it-made-me-hold-my-breath-in-expectation-hearing-wilderness-burst-into-prodigious-peal-laughter-that-would-shake-fixed-joseph-conrad
it-is-true-i-gained-muscular-vigour-but-with-it-prodigious-appetite-which-i-was-compelled-to-indulge-consequently-increased-in-weight-until-my-kind-old-friend-advised-me-to-forsa
there-is-poignancy-in-all-things-clear-in-stare-deer-in-ring-hammer-in-morning-seeing-bucket-perfectly-lucid-water-we-fall-to-imagining-richard-wilbur
a-bands-only-unique-thing-is-its-chemistry-especially-if-none-you-are-prodigious-players-particularly-handsome-the-one-thing-you-have-is-your-uniqueness-we-hold-on-to-that
let-him-who-looks-for-monument-to-washington-look-around-united-states-your-freedom-your-independence-your-national-power-your-prosperity-your-lajos-kossuth
from-pound-iron-that-costs-little-thousand-watchsprings-can-be-made-whose-value-becomes-prodigious-the-pound-you-have-received-from-lord-use-it-faithfully-robert-schumann
i-had-prodigious-life-living-in-grown-up-world-when-i-was-child-but-i-think-my-abilities-were-about-perceptiveness-they-were-about-examining-psychology-examining-people-relations
my-only-love-sprung-from-my-only-hate-too-early-seen-unknown-known-too-late-prodigious-birth-love-it-is-to-me-that-i-must-love-loathed-enemy-william-shakespeare
every-morning-upon-awakening-i-experience-supreme-pleasure-that-being-salvador-dali-i-ask-myself-wonderstruck-what-prodigious-thing-will-he-do-salvador-dali
avoid-fancy-wordsif-you-admire-fancy-words-if-every-sky-is-beauteous-every-blonde-curvaceous-every-intelligent-child-prodigious-if-you-are-tickled-by-william-strunk
the-first-time-i-lay-actual-eyes-on-real-david-lynch-on-set-his-movie-hes-peeing-on-treemr-david-lynch-prodigious-coffee-drinker-apparently-pees-david-foster-wallace
with-prodigious-bravery-eviscerating-humor-roxane-gay-takes-on-culture-politics-in-bad-feminist-gets-it-right-time-time-again-we-should-all-be-ayelet-waldman
an-unbroken-horse-erects-his-mane-paws-ground-starts-back-impetuously-at-sight-bridle-while-one-which-is-properly-trained-suffers-patiently-even-whip-spur-savage-man-will-not-ben
In our folk nobody has any experience of youth, there's barely even any time for being a toddler. The children simply don't have any time in which they might be children... Indeed... there's simply no way that we would be able to provide our children with a viable childhood, one that is real. Naturally, there are consequences. There's a certain ever present, not to be liquidated childishness that permeates our folk; We often act in ways that are totally and utterly ridiculous and, indeed, precisely like children we do things that are crazy, letting loose with our assets in a manner that is bereft of all rationality, prodigious in our celebrations, partaking in a light-headed frivolousness that is divorced from all sensibility, and often enough all simply for the sake of some small token of fun, so much do we love having our small amusements. But our folk isn't only childish, to a certain extent we also age prematurely, childhood and old age mix themselves differently with us than by others. We don't have any youth, we jump right away into maturity and, then, we remain grown-ups for too long and as a consequence to this there's a broad shadow of a certain tiredness and a sort of hopelessness that colours our essential nature, a nature that as a whole is otherwise so tenacious and permeated by hope, strong hope. This, no doubt, this is related to why we're so disinclined toward music-we're too old for music, so much excitement, so much passion doesn't sit well with our heaviness;

Franz Kafka
in-our-folk-nobody-has-any-experience-youth-theres-barely-even-any-time-for-being-toddler-the-children-simply-dont-have-any-time-in-which-they-might-be-children-indeed-theres-sim
the-elsinores-bow-tilted-skyward-while-her-stern-fell-into-foaming-valley-not-man-had-gained-his-feet-bridge-men-swept-back-toward-me-fetched-up-against-mizzenshrouds-and-then-th
I will not mention the name (and what bits of it I happen to give here appear in decorous disguise) of that man, that Franco-Hungarian writer... I would rather not dwell upon him at all, but I cannot help it- he is surging up from under my pen. Today one does not hear much about him; and this is good, for it proves that I was right in resisting his evil spell, right in experiencing a creepy chill down my spine whenever this or that new book of his touched my hand. The fame of his likes circulates briskly but soon grows heavy and stale; and as for history it will limit his life story to the dash between two dates. Lean and arrogant, with some poisonous pun ever ready to fork out and quiver at you, and with a strange look of expectancy in his dull brown veiled eyes, this false wag had, I daresay, an irresistible effect on small rodents. Having mastered the art of verbal invention to perfection, he particularly prided himself on being a weaver of words, a title he valued higher than that of a writer; personally, I never could understand what was the good of thinking up books, of penning things that had not really happened in some way or other; and I remember once saying to him as I braved the mockery of his encouraging nods that, were I a writer, I should allow only my heart to have imagination, and for the rest rely upon memory, that long-drawn sunset shadow of one's personal truth. I had known his books before I knew him; a faint disgust was already replacing the aesthetic pleasure which I had suffered his first novel to give me. At the beginning of his career, it had been possible perhaps to distinguish some human landscape, some old garden, some dream- familiar disposition of trees through the stained glass of his prodigious prose... but with every new book the tints grew still more dense, the gules and purpure still more ominous; and today one can no longer see anything at all through that blazoned, ghastly rich glass, and it seems that were one to break it, nothing but a perfectly black void would face one's shivering soul. But how dangerous he was in his prime, what venom he squirted, with what whips he lashed when provoked! The tornado of his passing satire left a barren waste where felled oaks lay in a row, and the dust still twisted, and the unfortunate author of some adverse review, howling with pain, spun like a top in the dust.

Vladimir Nabokov
i-will-not-mention-name-what-bits-it-i-happen-to-give-here-appear-in-decorous-disguise-that-man-that-francohungarian-writer-i-would-rather-not-dwell-upon-him-at-all-but-i-cannot-
I have had so many Dwellings, Nat, that I know these Streets as well as a strowling Beggar: I was born in this Nest of Death and Contagion and now, as they say, I have learned to feather it. When first I was with Sir Chris. I found lodgings in Phenix Street off Hogg Lane, close by St Giles and Tottenham Fields, and then in later times I was lodged at the corner of Queen Street and Thames Street, next to the Blew Posts in Cheapside. (It is still there, said Nat stirring up from his Seat, I have passed it!) In the time before the Fire, Nat, most of the buildings in London were made of timber and plaister, and stones were so cheap that a man might have a cart-load of them for six-pence or seven-pence; but now, like the Aegyptians, we are all for Stone. (And Nat broke in, I am for Stone!) The common sort of People gawp at the prodigious Rate of Building and exclaim to each other London is now another City or that House was not there Yesterday or the Situacion of the Streets is quite Changd (I contemn them when they say such things! Nat adds). But this Capital City of the World of Affliction is still the Capitol of Darknesse, or the Dungeon of Man's Desires: still in the Centre are no proper Streets nor Houses but a Wilderness of dirty rotten Sheds, allways tumbling or takeing Fire, with winding crooked passages, lakes of Mire and rills of stinking Mud, as befits the smokey grove of Moloch. (I have heard of that Gentleman, says Nat all a quiver). It is true that in what we call the Out-parts there are numberless ranges of new Buildings: in my old Black-Eagle Street, Nat, tenements have been rais'd and where my Mother and Father stared without understanding at their Destroyer (Death! he cryed) new-built Chambers swarm with life. But what a Chaos and Confusion is there: meer fields of Grass give way to crooked Passages and quiet Lanes to smoking Factors, and these new Houses, commonly built by the London workmen, are often burning and frequently tumbling down (I saw one, says he, I saw one tumbling!). Thus London grows more Monstrous, Straggling and out of all Shape: in this Hive of Noise and Ignorance, Nat, we are tyed to the World as to a sensible Carcasse and as we cross the stinking Body we call out What News? or What's a clock? And thus do I pass my Days a stranger to mankind. I'll not be a Stander-by, but you will not see me pass among them in the World. (You will disquiet your self, Master, says Nat coming towards me). And what a World is it, of Tricking and Bartering, Buying and Selling, Borrowing and Lending, Paying and Receiving; when I walk among the Piss and Sir-reverence of the Streets I hear, Money makes the old Wife trot, Money makes the Mare to go (and Nat adds, What Words won't do, Gold will). What is their God but shineing Dirt and to sing its Devotions come the Westminster-Hall-whores, the Charing-cross whores, the Whitehall whores, the Channel-row whores, the Strand whores, the Fleet Street whores, the Temple-bar whores; and they are followed in the same Catch by the Riband weavers, the Silver-lace makers, the Upholsterers, the Cabinet-makers, Watermen, Carmen, Porters, Plaisterers, Lightemen, Footmen, Shopkeepers, Journey-men... and my Voice grew faint through the Curtain of my Pain.

Peter Ackroyd
i-have-had-many-dwellings-nat-that-i-know-these-streets-as-well-as-strowling-beggar-i-was-born-in-this-nest-death-contagion-now-as-they-say-i-have-learned-to-feather-it-when-firs
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