Quoth the....

Quoth the Heiress:

“If you want to do something, don’t tell other people about it, just do it. Other people will always find a reason to try and prevent you.”

-Gladys Deacon; Duchess of Marlboro, American Heiress & Intellectual

Quoth the Actress:

“I don’t seem to get solemn about it, and some people might not understand. That’s why I never talk about it. I think it’s all here– in the mountains and the desert. I don’t think God is a softie, either. In the end, it’s better if people are forced back into– well– into being right, before they’re too far gone. I think your temple is your everyday living.”

-Carole Lombard; on the subject of God

Quoth the Last of the English Romantic Poets:

“My dear Girl, I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more I have lov’d. … You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass’d my window home yesterday, I was filled with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time.”

-John Keats; in a letter to his betrothed, Fanny Brawne

Quoth the Artist:

“I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life-
and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.”

-Georgia O’Keefe

Quoth the Novelist:

“In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.”

-George Orwell

Quoth the Burlesque Model:

“When someone calls another person ugly, all I see is the person that’s saying it become instantly less beautiful.”

-Dita Von Teese

Quoth the Journalist/Author:

“A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.”

-Hunter S. Thompson

Quoth the Artist:

“The greatest danger
for most of us
is not that our aim is
too high
and we miss it,
but that it is
too low
and we reach it.”

-Michelangelo

Quoth the Poet:

Go now into summer, into the backs of cars,

into the black maws of your own changing,onto the boardwalks of a thousand splinters,onto the beaches of a hundred fond memoriesin wait, where the sea in all its indefatigabilitystammers at the invitation. Go to your vacation,

to the late morning cool of your basement rooms,the honeysuckle evening of the first kiss, the firstdip and pivot, swivel and twist. Go to wherethe clipper ships sail far upriver, where the salmonswim in the clean, cool pools just to spawn.Wake to what the spider unspools into a silver

dawn dripping with light. Sleep in sleeping bags,sleep in sand, sleep at someone else’s housein a land you’ve never been, where the dreamersdream in a language you only half understand.Slip beneath the sheets, slide toward the plate,swing beneath the bandstand where the secret

things await. Be glad, or be sad if you want,but be, and be a part of all that marches pastlike a parade, and wade through it or swim in itor dive in it with your eyes open and your mindopen to wind, rain, long days of sun and longernights of city lights mixing on wet streets like paint.

-First Year Teacher to His Students; Gary Whitehead

Quoth the Founder of Analytical Psychology:

“We know that the wildest and most moving dramas are played not in the theatre but in the hearts of ordinary men and women who pass by without exciting attention, and who betray to the world nothing of the conflicts that rage within them except possibly by a nervous breakdown. What is so difficult for the layman to grasp is the fact that in most cases the patients themselves have no suspicion whatever of the internecine war raging in their unconscious. If we remember that there are many people who understand nothing at all about themselves, we shall be less surprised at the realization that there are also people who are utterly unaware of their actual conflicts.”