List Of Contemporary Accounts Of Samuel Johnson's Life
This article lists all known accounts of the British writer Samuel Johnson's life written by his contemporaries. They are listed by date of publication.
Read more about List Of Contemporary Accounts Of Samuel Johnson's Life: Accounts
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“I made a list of things I have
to remember and a list
of things I want to forget,
but I see they are the same list.”
—Linda Pastan (b. 1932)
“We saw the machinery where murderers are now executed. Seven have been executed. The plan is better than the old one. It is quietly done. Only a few, at the most about thirty or forty, can witness [an execution]. It excites nobody outside of the list permitted to attend. I think the time for capital punishment has passed. I would abolish it. But while it lasts this is the best mode.”
—Rutherford Birchard Hayes (1822–1893)
“Why is it that many contemporary male thinkers, especially men of color, repudiate the imperialist legacy of Columbus but affirm dimensions of that legacy by their refusal to repudiate patriarchy?”
—bell hooks (b. c. 1955)
“Friendship is friendship, but accounts must be kept.”
—Chinese proverb.
“Each writer is born with a repertory company in his head. Shakespeare has perhaps 20 players, and Tennessee Williams has about 5, and Samuel Beckett one—and maybe a clone of that one. I have 10 or so, and that’s a lot. As you get older, you become more skillful at casting them.”
—Gore Vidal (b. 1925)
“He doesn’t want you for friends, that’s why he did it. You see, when guys have been in the line as long as we have, you find out it’s no good to make friends, ‘cause when a friend gets it—well, it’s rough on you. The buddies that come with you you’re stuck with, but you don’t make no new ones. It’s the dyin’ truth.”
—Gil Doud, U.S. screenwriter, and Jessie Hibbs. Johnson (Marshall Thompson)
““Maman”, said Annaïse, her voice strangely weak. “Here is the water.”
A thin blade of silver came forward in the plain and the peasants ran alongside it, crying and singing.
...
“Oh, Manuel, Manuel, why are you dead?” moaned Délira.
“No”, said Annaïse, and she smiled through her tears, “no, he is not dead”.
She took the old woman’s hand and pressed gently against her belly where new life stirred.”
—Jacques Roumain (1907–1945)