— Christine de Pizan Italian French late medieval author 1365 - 1430
Seulete suy et seulete vueil estre,
Seulete m'a mon doulz ami laissiée,
Seulete suy, sanz compaignon ne maistre,
Seulette suy, dolente et courrouciée.
Cent Balades, no. 11, line 1; Maurice Roy (ed.) Œuvres Poétiques de Christine de Pisan (1886) vol. 1, p. 12. Translation from Aliki Barnstone & Willis Barnstone (eds.) A Book of Women Poets from Antiquity to Now (1980) p. 203.
„I am much obliged to you for your last letter, and the lessons reed, before. I think I now begin to see a little into the nature of modulation and the introduction of flats and sharps; and when we meet you shall hear me play extempore.. [his friend William Jackson of Exeter was composer and organist]“
— Thomas Gainsborough English portrait and landscape painter 1727 - 1788
1755 - 1769
— James Thurber American cartoonist, author, journalist, playwright 1894 - 1961
"My Senegalese Birds and Siamese Cats", Holiday Magazine; reprinted in Lanterns & Lances (1961).
From Lanterns and Lances
— Patrick Stump American musician 1984
AbsolutePunk.net, Patrick Stump, Part 2 - 10.13.08
Letter to his godson, Thomas Erle Faber (January 1931) as quoted in "T.S. Eliot's Private Letters To Faber Publishing Family To Be Sold" at World Collector's Net http://www.worldcollectorsnet.com/news/newstories/news736.html (12 August 2005)
Source: Four Quartets
Context: I am glad you have a Cat, but I do not believe it is So remarkable a cat as My Cat. My Cat is a Lilliecat Hubvously. What a lilliecat it is. There never was such a Lilliecat. Its Name is JELLYORUM and its one Idea is to be Usefull!!
Joe Pitt Casebooks
Source: Already Dead, Character: Joe Pitt (narration)
Source: The Cat Who Walks Through Walls
— Pierre Bonnard French painter and printmaker 1867 - 1947
Starting from Paumanok, 6
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
„When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an Introduction was, he said "The what of a what?" which didn't help us as much as we had hoped, but luckily Owl kept his head and told us that the Opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that that's what it is.“
The House at Pooh Corner (1928)
— Philip Larkin English poet, novelist, jazz critic and librarian 1922 - 1985
Letter to J.B.Sutton, 21 December 1942
Quand je me joue à ma chatte, qui sait si elle passe son temps de moi, plus que je ne fais d'elle.
Book II, Ch. 12
The 1595 edition adds: “We entertain each other with reciprocal monkey tricks. If I have my time to begin or to refuse, so has she hers.” As quoted in Jacques Derrida, The Animal That Therefore I Am https://books.google.it/books?id=y8Drc-QghEIC&pg=PT21, trans. David Wills, Fordham University Press, 2008.
Essais (1595), Book II
— Charles Bukowski American writer 1920 - 1994
„The most I can do for my friend is simply to be his friend. I have no wealth to bestow on him. If he knows that I am happy in loving him, he will want no other reward. Is not friendship divine in this?“
— Henry David Thoreau 1817-1862 American poet, essayist, naturalist, and abolitionist 1817 - 1862
The monster to Robert Walton
Source: Frankenstein (1818)
Context: I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.
Context: I seek not a fellow feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now that virtue has become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, I am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.