Books. Cats. Life is Good.
The helpful thought for which you look Is written somewhere in a book.
My mission in life is to make everybody as uneasy as possible. I think we should all be as uneasy as possible, because that's what the world is like.
When people are finding meaning in things -- beware.
I am a person before I am anything else. I never say I am a writer. I never say I am an artist...I am a person who does those things.
There are so many things we've been brought up to believe that it takes you an awfully long time to realize that they aren't you.
My favorite journey is looking out the window.
What is, is, and what might have been could never have existed.
Interviewer: What is your greatest regret? Gorey: That I don't have one
The Suicide, as she is falling, Illuminated by the moon, Regrets her act, and finds appalling The thought she will be dead so soon.
It's well we cannot hear the screams we make in other people's dreams.
If something doesn't creep into a drawing that you're not prepared for, you might as well not have drawn it.
There was a young lady named Mae Who smoked without stopping all day; As pack followed pack, Her lungs first turned black, And eventually rotted away.
I tend to be rather inconsequential and trail off.
I've never had any intentions about anything. That's why I am where I am today, which is neither here nor there, in a literal sense.
Explaining something makes it go away, so to speak; what's important is left after you have explained everything else.
Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.
I don't think anything might have been. What is, is.
To take my work seriously would be the height of folly.
I don't know what it is I'm doing. But it's not that. Despite all evidence to the contrary.
I have given up considering happiness as relevant.
Not everything in life can be interpreted metaphorically; that's because things fall out on the way.
Such excess of passion is quite out of fashion
More is happening out there than we are aware of. It is possibly due to some unknown direful circumstance.
All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.
The world may think it idiotic, Nor care at all we're symbiotic, But I will say at once and twice: I find it nice. I find it nice.
I should like a parsley sandwich. To the best of my knowledge they are not in season.
Vice is nice, but a little virtue won't hurt you.
The Baron told her that only art meant anything.
Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.
Each night Father fills me with dread When he sits on the foot of my bed; I'd not mind that he speaks In gibbers and squeaks, But for seventeen years he's been dead.
...my least favorite actress of all time, Helena Bonham Carter. I find her lack of a neck very off-putting and especially her acting.
He presented it with a length of string and passed on to the statue of Corrupted Endeavor to await the arrival of Autumn.
Where was I? in remarking that me is the envelopes and not nearly so much so, the often foolish letters inside.
I suppose it was obvious that The Loathsome Couple was based on the Moors Murders, which disturbed me very greatly for some reason.
I just kind of conjured them up out of my subconscious and put them in order of ascending peculiarity.
He wrote it all down Zealously.
On the way home I absently minded (you know what I mean) went through a stop sign in Hyannis so of course there was a police car to apprehend me. A soft answer turnethed away wrath, fortunately.
There was a young woman named Fleager Who was terribly, terribly eager To be all the rage On the tragedy stage, Though her talents were pitifully meagre.
There was a young woman whose stammer Was atrocious, and so was her grammar, But they were not improved When her husband was moved To knock out her teeth with a hammer.
Let's take the time that has been given to us and find that clock.
A lady both callous and brash Met a man with a vast black moustache; She cried, 'Shave it, O do! And I'll put it with glue On my hat as a sort of panache.
Mr Earbrass escaped from Messrs Scuffle and Dustcough, who were most anxious to go into all the ramifications of a scheme for having his novels translated into Urdu, and went to call on a distant cousin.
I thought it was going to be different; It turned out to be(,) just the same.