Wednesday, May 30, 2012


I read somewhere that Hemingway devoted himself to writing perfect sentences. Here's a good one from "The Snows of Kilimanjaro":

It was not so much that he lied as that there was no truth to tell.

Good stuff.

He also wrote, Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. That's in The Sun also Rises.

Here's stuff not written by Hemingway.

I remember the lies, but the truth escapes me. That's Paul McGarity. Old friend of mine.

Michael Zulli was my favorite Sandman artist.

Any novel begins in a weird, rooty place and ends up at the tip of a leaf. Neil Gaiman. He said that at a thing called Fiddler's Green, which was a convention for Sandman fans. Yeah, I went to that.

Yeah, it's about werewolves. Sort of.

For every man manufactures his own private Hell and peoples it with demons of his own creation, to torment him for his own secret sins, imagined or real. Jack Williamson, in Darker than You Think.

I went with the Italian version of the poster.

How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders? That's spoken by Henry Fonda, in Sergio Lione's film Once Upon a Time in the West. When I heard it, it struck me as a manufactured situation--the character he's talking about really does wear both thing to hold up his pants, but I figured no real person did so. Since seeing that movie, I've seen several people who wear both suspenders and a belt.


Maybe my favorite Woody Allen movie.

Don't listen to what your school teachers tell you. Don't pay attention to that. Just see what they look like and that's how you know what life is really going to be like. Woody Allen, in Crimes and Misdemeanors.

There were times when Twain had dark hair .

 Unconsciously we all have a standard by which we measure other men, and if we examine closely we find that this standard is a very simple one and it this:  we admire them, we envy them, for great qualities which we ourselves lack.  Hero worship consists in just that.  Our heroes are men who do things which we recognize with regret and sometimes with a secret shame that we cannot do.  We find not much in ourselves to admire, we are always privately wanting to be like somebody else.  If everybody was satisfied with himself there would be no heroes. Mark Twain, Autobiography

Let's end with this one:

Truth may be stranger than fiction, goes the old saw, but it is never so strange as lies (or for that matter, as true). Proof of which maxim is the fact that I just made it up. John Hodgman, The Areas of My Expertise.

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