Liberace Quotes

Let’s not mince words: the inside of the Sydney casino looks as if Vegas had an illegitimate child with Liberace’s underpants, and that child fell down a staircase and hit its head on the edge of a spade.

Did Genghis Khan take his coffee black?" Oberon asked me. After my bathtime story, he wanted to be the Genghis Khan of dogs. He wanted a harem full of French poodles, all of whom were named either Fifi or Bambi. It was an amusing habit of his: Oberon had, in the past, wanted to be Vlad the Impaler, Joan of Arc, Bertrand Russell, and any other historical figure I had recently told him about while he was getting a thorough cleansing. His Liberace period had been particularly good for my soul: You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an Irish wolfhound parading around in rhinestone-studded gold lamé.

Liberace was certainly master and commander of the ivories ~ he is the only pianist I can watch or listen to without suffering a case of 'Stagefright Sympathy Sickness'.

Now, whatever you do, don't say anything, because no one must know that Liberace is gay." "Excuse me?" I said. "I'm eight. I know he's gay.

A few months ago, I was sitting morosely at my desk, wondering why I had ever agreed to review Barbara Bush: A Memoir for an English newspaper. The experience was proving to be a degradation of the act of reading. Imagine, if you will, being strapped into a chair and made to listen to Liberace playing the piano for hour upon hour. Or imagine being fed chocolate dinner mints, like a hapless goose, until you are on the verge of explosion. Such was my lot.

Captain Midnight is always careful.” “It’s not just Captain Midnight I’m worried about it. It’s his alter ego.” “And who might that be?” “My Love Muffin.” Myron grinned into the receiver. “Hey, Jess, did you know Joan Collins was on Batman?” “Of course,” Jessica said. “She played the Siren.” “Oh yeah? Well, who did Liberace play?

Nobody will believe in you unless you believe in yourself.

She had finally learned the significance of the ending of the Mayan calendar: Elvis and Liberace were clearly coming back from the dead.

First, is the image, so far projected here, of Mongols draped in gilded cloth that would gladden the heart of a Liberace really true?

Ma Parker.’ ‘Milton Berle.’ ‘Louie the Lilac.’ ‘Liberace.’ ‘Chandell the Great.’ ‘And?’ Win looked puzzled. ‘And what?’ ‘What other criminal did Liberace play?

Liberace only appeared in that one episode,’ Win announced. ‘Is that your final answer?’ ‘Yes. Liberace only appeared in that one episode.

LIBERACE!' Owen would have cried. 'WHO WOULD HAVE BELIEVED IT POSSIBLE? LIBERACE! KILLED BY WATERMELONS!

No Fuimus, non Sumus, atque nonquam obliti erimus." "I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind. I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart." "Blaine is a pain." "Redrum......" "MISERY IS ALIVE, MISERY IS ALIVE! OH, This whole house is going to be full of romance, OOOH, I AM GOING TO PUT ON MY LIBERACE RECORDS!" "First the blood comes, then the boys follow." "Blood stains are the hardest to get out. "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

I cried all the way to the bank [response to negative reviews].

Nakedness makes us democratic, adornment makes us individuals.

Henry, you want to take a guess?” Henry ignored them. Nothing new there. “Liberace only appeared in that one episode,” Win repeated, his nose in the air. Myron made a soft buzzing sound. “Sorry, that answer is incorrect. What do we have for our player, Don? Well, Myron, Windsor gets the home version of our game plus a year’s supply of Turtle Wax. And thank you for playing our game!” Win was unmoved. “Liberace only appeared in that one episode.” “That your new mantra?” “Until you prove otherwise.” Win

Indoors or out, women must make their beauty glitter because they are so hard for men to see. They glitter as a bid for attention that is otherwise grudgingly given. Catching light draws the eye in a basic unsubtle reflex: Babies’ undeveloped eyes follow glittering objects. It is the one way in which women are allowed to shout in order to command attention. Men who glitter, on the other hand, are either low-status or not real men: gold teeth, flashy jewelry; ice skaters, Liberace. Real men are matte. Their surfaces must not distract attention from what it is they are saying. But women of every status glint. Dale Spender, in Man Made Language, shows that when in conversation, men cut off women in most of the interruptions by far and that men give women’s words only intermittent attention. So pyrotechnics of light and color must accompany women’s speech in order to beguile an attention span that wanders when women open their mouths. What women look like is considered important because what we say is not.

Have you found your Christmas spirit yet? he asked as they drove by Broslin Square. The decorations were out of control. "This place would make Liberace feel underdressed.

It was always like this. Yes, the black-and-white debutantes of yore looked prim and proper and decorous and calm—like a row of carnations in white silk. But so did we, in our picture. In actual life there are no sepia tones. Call it the Unified Tastelessness Theory of History. In historic homes, people are always uncovering hidden layers of really hideous paint; James Madison’s bedroom was a wince-making teal. That statue was not the tasteful white you see; it used to look like Liberace on a bad day. There was a time when no yard in Ancient Athens was considered complete without a cheery stone phallus; they were like rude garden gnomes. Why would it have been any different in the ballrooms of a century ago? No one notices she’s living in a golden age. Probably if I’d been around then, I’d have spent most of my time lurking in the powder room, admiring the fractal patterns in the woodwork, catching up on my reading. If I were stuck at a dinner table next to Oscar Wilde, I would have sighed and wished myself back in time, next to Samuel Johnson. And so on, back and back and back until I ran into Dicaeopolis. In a strange way, that was comforting.

Flair Hickory, celebrity counsel for the defense, stood, and not for the first time, Wendy wondered how Dan Mercer had the money to afford him. Flair wore his customary gray suit with thick pink stripes, pink shirt, pink tie. He crossed the room in a way that might be modestly described as “theatrical,” but it was more like something Liberace might have done if Liberace had the courage to be really flamboyant. “Ms.

I was having a field day down the Westend; my deep pockets were jingling and full of money nearly every day of the week. My brother’s bird, Irene, wanted a fur coat, so I got her one by throwing a brick through the shop window and grabbing the coat off the shop dummy. Once I got to the bed-sit, I put the jacket on and waltzed in to the flat looking like Liberace, the two of them burst out laughing. Irene was like a tramp eating chips. ‘Let’s try it on, Jimmy, please?’ As she swooned around like Joan Collins with the fur coat on, she had the air of a council estate beauty queen about her.

Scholars argue that many gay men might unconsciously “learn” the gay voice not only from their communities but also from TV and movies. Since the nineteenth century, gay male characters have had a place in mainstream American entertainment; it’s just that until the 1990s or so they were always in the form of some extreme stereotype, like the wealthy, foppish “pansy” or the hyperintellectual cunning villain. In Do I Sound Gay? David Thorpe explains that growing up, he didn’t have any gay figures to relate to in his community (at least none that were out),* but he knew what gay men sounded like because of a few on-screen archetypes. These included Liberace and Truman Capote, with their nasally affects, as well as sophisticated movie villains like Waldo Lydecker in 1944’s Laura and Addison DeWitt in 1950’s All About Eve, both portrayed as impeccably dressed, acid-tongued dandies.

Brooks locked eyes with a fiercely pretty brunette who could have aroused a marble bust of Liberace.

No sabía que fueras pianista de día y vengador anónimo por las noches. ¿Cuáles son tus armas contra el mal? ¿Claves de Sol? ¿Dobles corcheas? ¿Usas capa? En eso, Liberace te tomó la delantera.

In her prime, she bore a slight resemblance to Liberace, but in a more masculine way

Once Rock Hudson married Gomer Pyle, he would officially be known as “Rock Pyle.” With Truman Capote officiating and Liberace providing “musical accompaniment,” this should have been enough of a tip-off that the wedding was a lark, an irreverent gay fantasia.

Oberon asked me. After my bathtime story, he wanted to be the Genghis Khan of dogs. He wanted a harem full of French poodles, all of whom were named either Fifi or Bambi. It was an amusing habit of his: Oberon had, in the past, wanted to be Vlad the Impaler, Joan of Arc, Bertrand Russell, and any other historical figure I had recently told him about while he was getting a thorough cleansing. His Liberace period had been particularly good for my soul: You haven’t lived until you’ve seen an Irish wolfhound parading around in rhinestone-studded gold lamé.