James Bovard (1956) American journalist
From Freedom in Chains: The Rise of the State and the Demise of the Citizen (St. Martin's Press, 1999) http://www.jimbovard.com/Epigram%20page%20Freedom%20in%20Chains.htm
"The Match Maker"
The Chronicles of Clovis (1911)
James Bovard (1956) American journalist
From Freedom in Chains: The Rise of the State and the Demise of the Citizen (St. Martin's Press, 1999) http://www.jimbovard.com/Epigram%20page%20Freedom%20in%20Chains.htm
“I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.”
E.E. Cummings (1894–1962) American poet
“I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.”
Saki (1870–1916) British writer
The Unbearable Bassington http://books.google.com/books?id=xOXizk60YroC&q="I'm+living+so+far+beyond+my+income+that+we+may+almost+be+said+to+be+living+apart"&pg=PA59#v=onepage (1912)
Samuel Butler book The Way of All Flesh
Life, xvi
The Note-Books of Samuel Butler (1912), Part I - Lord, What is Man?
Source: The Way of All Flesh
“Yes, for most people nowadays television is their only contact with the world beyond their work.”
John Brunner book The Sheep Look Up
September “MINE ENEMIES ARE DELIVERED INTO MY HAND”
The Sheep Look Up (1972)
“Two people who represent true love are those who manage to live in a world of their own.”
Prevale (1983) Italian DJ and producer
Original: Due persone che rappresentano il vero amore sono coloro che riescono a vivere in un mondo tutto loro.
Source: prevale.net
“To those who live and toil and lowly die,
Who past beyond and leave no lasting trace”
William McFee (1881–1966) American writer
Dedication
Casuals of the Sea (1916)
Context: To those who live and toil and lowly die,
Who past beyond and leave no lasting trace,
To those from whom our queen Prosperity
Has turned away her fair and fickle face;
To those frail craft upon the restless Sea
Of Human Life, who strike the rocks uncharted,
Who loom, sad phantoms, near us, drearily,
Storm-driven, rudderless, with timbers started;
To those poor Casuals of the way-worn earth,
The feckless wastage of our cunning schemes,
This book is dedicate, their hidden worth
And beauty I have seen in vagrant dreams!
The things we touch, the things we dimly see,
The stiff strange tapestries of human thought,
The silken curtains of our fantasy
Are with their sombre histories o'erwrought.
And yet we know them not, our skill is vain to find
The mute soul's agony, the visions of the blind.
Maddox (1978) American internet writer
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