William Archibald Spooner famous quotes
Last updated: Sep 5, 2024
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Sir, you have tasted two whole worms; you have hissed all my mystery lectures and been caught fighting a liar in the quad; you will leave by the next town drain.
-- William Archibald Spooner -
Tell me, was it you or your brother who was killed in the war?
-- William Archibald Spooner -
The weight of rages will press hard upon the employer
-- William Archibald Spooner -
In the sermon I have just preached, whenever I said Aristotle, I meant St. Paul.
-- William Archibald Spooner -
I remember your name perfectly, but I just can't think of your face.
-- William Archibald Spooner -
Poor soul - very sad; her late husband, you know, a very sad death - eaten by missionaries - poor soul.
-- William Archibald Spooner
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The only person who is a worse liar than a faith healer is his patient.
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I looked at her. Sheila was my girl--the girl I wanted--and wanted for keeps. But it wasn't any use having illusions about her. Sheila was a liar and probably always would be a liar. It was her way of fighting for survival--the quick easy glib denial. It was a child's weapon--and she'd probably never got out of using it. If I wanted Sheila, I must accept her as she was--be at hand to prop up the weak places. We've all got our weak places. Mine were different from Sheila's, but they were there.
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There's no comparison between NPR and the propaganda that you hear from Rush or from Sean Hannity, the news movement conservatives that are just laying out, slathering out the disinformation and the lies, as I discuss in my book, 'Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right.'
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Like I've said before, so many times before, I'm not a good person, I'm not a hero. I'm a criminal, a liar, a cheat, a killer. It was them or me and I wanted to live.
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Could man be drunk for ever    With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning    And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober    And think by fits and starts, And if they think, they fasten    Their hands upon their hearts.
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The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.
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Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; Breath's aware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey's over then there'll be time enough to sleep.
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Do I do as false prophets do and puff air into simulacra? Am I a Sorcerer--like Macbeth's witches--mixing truth and lies in incandescent shapes? Or am I a kind of very minor scribe of a prophetic Book--telling such truth as in me lies, with aid of such fiction as I acknowledge mine, as Prospero acknowledged Caliban.
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What I would say to the young men and women who are beset by hopelessness and doubt is that they should go and see what is being done on the ground to fight poverty, not like going to the zoo but to take action, to open their hearts and their consciences.
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Sawyer was always the Vincent boy worth fighting for. He's the special one.
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