Weary Willie Quotes

Travis straightened himself into soldierly erectness. The weariness of his countenance melted into chiseled resolve, tightening his chin. “I stay here to defend the Alamo. And, for those who will also choose to stay, I know that, although they may be sacrificed to the vengeance of a Gothic enemy, the victory will cost the enemy so dear that it will be worse for him than a defeat.

he had to stand by while there proliferated in his own house such concepts as “the art of living thought” “the graph of spiritual growth” and “action on the wing”. he discovered that a biweekly ”hour of purification” was held regularly under his roof. he demanded an explanation. it turned out that what they meant by this was reading the poems of Stefan George together. Leo Fischel searched his old encyclopedia in vain for the poet’s name. but what irritated him most of all, old-style liberal that he was, was that these green pups referred to all the high government officials, bank presidents, and leading university figures in the Parallel Campaign as “puffed-up little men”. then there were the world-weary airs they gave themselves, complaining that the times had become devoid of great ideas, if there was anyone left who was ready for great ideas. that even “humanity” had become a mere buzzword, as far as they were concerned, and that only “the nation” or, as they called it, “folk and folkways” still really had any meaning. wiser than their years, they disdained “lust” and “the inflated lie about the crude enjoyment of animal existence” as they called it, but talked so much about supersensuality and mystical desire that the startled listener reacted willy-nilly by feeling a certain tenderness for sensuality and physical desires, and even Leo Fischel had to admit that the unbridled ardor of their language sometimes made the listener feel the roots of their ideas shooting down his legs, though he disapproved, because in his opinion great ideas were meant to be uplifting.

How do you feel?” Eddi asked. “Infinitely weary, sweet, but it’s true that a quantity of hot water poured over the head is a sovereign remedy for most ills.” He rubbed the space between his eyebrows and smiled at her. Eddi stood up. At the table, Willy stirred restlessly, and she took pleasure in ignoring him. “Let me look at your head,” she said to the phouka. “It’s right here,” he replied, pointing. “Look all you like.” “Don’t be stupid. Never mind, I suppose that’s too much to ask.” She lifted his wet hair carefully off his forehead. At her touch, the phouka closed his eyes and drew a long, irregular breath. The gash on his temple still seeped blood. “What did they hit you with, anyway?” “A big rock,” he enunciated carefully. “Nothing but the most sophisticated weaponry can prevail against me.

These Claudines, then…they want to know because they believe they already do know, the way one who loves fruit knows, when offered a mango from the moon, what to expect; and they expect the loyal tender teasing affection of the schoolgirl crush to continue: the close and confiding companionship, the pleasure of the undemanding caress, the cuddle which consummates only closeness; yet in addition they want motherly putting right, fatherly forgiveness and almost papal indulgence; they expect that the sights and sounds, the glorious affairs of the world which their husbands will now bring before them gleaming like bolts of silk, will belong to the same happy activities as catching toads, peeling back tree bark, or powdering the cheeks with dandelions and oranging the nose; that music will ravish the ear the way the trill of the blackbird does; that literature will hold the mind in sweet suspense the way fairy tales once did; that paintings will crowd the eye with the delights of a colorful garden, and the city streets will be filled with the same cool dew-moist country morning air they fed on as children. But they shall not receive what they expect; the tongue will be about other business; one will hear in masterpieces only pride and bitter contention; buildings will have grandeur but no flowerpots or chickens; and these Claudines will exchange the flushed cheek for the swollen vein, and instead of companionship, they will get sex and absurd games composed of pinch, leer, and giggle—that’s what will happen to “let’s pretend.” 'The great male will disappear into the jungle like the back of an elusive ape, and Claudine shall see little of his strength again, his intelligence or industry, his heroics on the Bourse like Horatio at the bridge (didn’t Colette see Henri de Jouvenel, editor and diplomat and duelist and hero of the war, away to work each day, and didn’t he often bring his mistress home with him, as Willy had when he was husband number one?); the great affairs of the world will turn into tawdry liaisons, important meetings into assignations, deals into vulgar dealings, and the en famille hero will be weary and whining and weak, reminding her of all those dumb boys she knew as a child, selfish, full of fat and vanity like patrons waiting to be served and humored, admired and not observed. 'Is the occasional orgasm sufficient compensation? Is it the prize of pure surrender, what’s gained from all that giving up? There’ll be silk stockings and velvet sofas maybe, the customary caviar, tasting at first of frog water but later of money and the secretions of sex, then divine champagne, the supreme soda, and rubber-tired rides through the Bois de Boulogne; perhaps there’ll be rich ugly friends, ritzy at homes, a few young men with whom one may flirt, a homosexual confidant with long fingers, soft skin, and a beautiful cravat, perfumes and powders of an unimaginable subtlety with which to dust and wet the body, many deep baths, bonbons filled with sweet liqueurs, a procession of mildly salacious and sentimental books by Paul de Kock and company—good heavens, what’s the problem?—new uses for the limbs, a tantalizing glimpse of the abyss, the latest sins, envy certainly, a little spite, jealousy like a vaginal itch, and perfect boredom. 'And the mirror, like justice, is your aid but never your friend.' -- From "Three Photos of Colette," The World Within the Word, reprinted from NYRB April 1977

I am Hermes. I stand in the crossroads by a windy belt of trees near the gray shore of the sea where the weary traveler may rest: here a fountain bubbles forth a cold and stainless water.

Lounge in the shade of the luxuriant laurel's beautiful foliage. And now drink sweet water from the cold spring so that your limbs weary with summer toil will find rest in the west wind.

How do you feel?” Eddi asked. “Infinitely weary, sweet, but it’s true that a quantity of hot water poured over the head is a sovereign remedy for most ills.” He rubbed the space between his eyebrows and smiled at her. Eddi stood up. At the table, Willy stirred restlessly, and she took pleasure in ignoring him. “Let me look at your head,” she said to the phouka. “It’s right here,” he replied, pointing. “Look all you like.” “Don’t be stupid. Never mind, I suppose that’s too much to ask.” She lifted his wet hair carefully off his forehead. At her touch, the phouka closed his eyes and drew a long, irregular breath. The hash on his temple still seeped blood. “What did they hit you with, anyway?” “A big rock,” he enunciated carefully. “Nothing but the most sophisticated weaponry can prevail against me.

Joseph Kearns as the Crazy Quilt Dragon. Hanley Stafford as Snapper Snitch the Crocodile. Howard McNear as Samuel the Seal and as Slim Pickins the Cowboy. Elvia Allman as Penelope the Pelican. Elliott Lewis as Mr. Presto the Magician. Lou Merrill as Santa Claus. Frank Nelson as Captain Tin Top. Cy Kendall as Captain Taffy the Pirate and as the Indian Chief. Gale Gordon as Weary Willie the Stork and as the Ostrich. Ted Osborne as Professor Whiz the Owl.

heavens never were to be trusted. ---------------- she were an angel of charity come down to earth with the mission of relieving suffering and mitigating pain until, eventually,another identically dressed angel had to be summoned urgently in order to mitigate and relieve her own pain and suffering ---------------- now he is playing a very unfair game, in which the cards have all been dealt to one player and in which,if necessary,the values of the cards will vary according to the whim of the person holding them ---------------- what about me,what about us,is it that simple for us,is it amatter of indifference to us ---------------- Arguing with what must be has always been awaste of time ---------------- each word filled with unbearable pain and sorrow ---------------- Shipwrecked, they were rowing toward an island not knowing if it was areal island or only the ghost of an island ---------------- They say that time heals all wounds,But we never live long enough to test that theory ---------------- laying on the world the whole weight of his infinite weariness ---------------- each word that we utter will take up the space of another more deserving word,not deserving in its ownright ---------------- the only rose without thorns I know,is you ---------------- life only gives you two days,and given the number of people who only get to live for a day and a half, and others even less, we can'treally complain. ---------------- every minute that passed taking with it ten years of life ---------------- how difficult it is to separate ourselves from what we have made ---------------- The only strength you need is in your arms ---------------- Because I've lived, ---------------- even things that aren't risky ventures can end badly ---------------- When you know something is going to happen,in away it's almost as if it had happened already ---------------- even the strongest spirits have moments of irresistible weakness ---------------- when one person loses heart,the other must have heart and courage enough for both ---------------- If I my self don't know how to make a proper man,how willI ever be able to call him to account for his mistakes ---------------- It's ridiculous to throw away the present just because you're afraid there might not be a future, ---------------- the cohesive nature of matter is not eternal ---------------- god coldly turned his back on his own work ---------------- everything that one desired or feared has already been experienced while one was desiring it or fearing it ---------------- the mouth is an organ that is all the more trustworthy the more silent it is. ---------------- the difference between the word of a craftsman and a divine commandment was that the latter had had to be written down,with the disastrous consequences with which we are all familiar ---------------- Idon't want what I can't have,and what I can't have I don't want ---------------- suddenly realize that we're not needed in the world,always assuming we ever were,of course,but believing that we were seemed to be enough, ---------------- life is a matter of carrying along all those days-before just as someone might carry stones,and when we can no longer cope with the load,the work is done,the last day is the only one that is not the day before another day, ---------------- creators tire of their creation as soon as it ceases to be a novelty ---------------- May God make you good,for I have done what I could ---------------- ,The things that seem to be over are always the things that never really are, ---------------- at what cost do we get used to things ----------------