He never wrote an invitation to dinner without an eye to posterity.
— Benjamin Disraeli on Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Every time a Cooper person is in peril, and absolute silence is worth four dollars a minute, he is sure to step on a dry twig. There may be a hundred handier things to step on, but that wouldn't satisfy Cooper. Cooper requires him to turn out and find a dry twig; and if he can't do it, go and borrow one. In fact, the Leatherstocking series ought to have been called the Broken Twig Series.
— Mark Twain on James Fenimore Cooper
The nicest old lady I ever met.
— William Faulkner on Henry James
He would not blow his nose without moralising on conditions in the handkerchief industry.
— Cyril Connolly on George Orwell
He looked, I decided, like a letter delivered to the wrong address.
— Malcolm Muggeridge on Evelyn Waugh
Hardy went down to botanize in the swamps ... he became a sort of village atheist brooding and blaspheming over the village idiot.
— G. K. Chesterton on Thomas Hardy
A village explainer, excellent if you were a village, but if you were not, not.
— Gertrude Stein on Ezra Pound
Trollope! Did anybody bear a name that predicted a style more Trollopy?
— George Moore on Anthony Trollope
With a pig's eyes that never look up, with a pig's snout that loves muck, with a pig's brain that only knows the sty, and with a pig's squeal that cries only when he is hurt, he sometimes opens his pig's mouth, tusked and ugly, and lets out the voice of God, railing at the whitewash that covers the manure about his habitat.
— William Allen White on H.L. Mencken
A hyena that wrote poetry in tombs.
— Horace Walpole on Dante
Linked to Wizbang's Carnival of the Trackbacks XIII.
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