I am opposed to writing about the private lives of living authors and psychoanalyzing them while they are alive. Criticism is getting all mixed up with a combination of the Junior F.B.I. -men, discards from Freud and Jung and a sort of Columnist peep-hole and missing laundry list school. Every young English professor sees gold in them dirty sheets now. Imagine what they can do with the soiled sheets of four legal beds by the same writer and you can see why their tongues are slavering.
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Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really merely commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the planning, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chain of events, working through generations and leading to the most outer results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable.
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Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
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He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon the grin.
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Sleep is an eight-hour peep show of infantile erotica.
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Life is too short to waste In critic peep or cynic bark,...
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when it comes to my death let it be slow, let it be pantomime, this last peep show,...
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Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage:...
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And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.
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Starkle starkle little twink Who the hell are you to think I'm not under what you call The alchofluence of incohol I'm just a little slort of sheep I'm not drunk like thinkle peep I don't know who is me yet But the drunker I stand here, The longer I get So just give me one more drink to fill my cup Cause I got all day sober to Sunday up
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I'm not under the alkafluence of inkahol that some thinkle peep I am.
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