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The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.
Cyril Connolly
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Cyril Connolly
Age: 71 †
Born: 1903
Born: September 10
Died: 1974
Died: November 26
Critic
Literary Critic
Novelist
Writer
Coventry
England
UK
Cyril Vernon Connolly
Decadence
Manure
Epoch
Civilization
Becomes
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More quotes by Cyril Connolly
No city should be too large for a man to walk out of in a morning.
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Like the bee its sting, the promiscuous leave behind them in each encounter something of themselves by which they are made to suffer.
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Imagination is nostalgia for the past, the absent it is the liquid solution in which art develops the snapshot of reality.
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When we have ceased to love the stench of the human animal, either in others or in ourselves, then are we condemned to misery, and clear thinking can begin.
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Vulgarity is the garlic in the salad of charm.
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The shock, for an intelligent writer, of discovering for the first time that there are people younger than himself who think him stupid is severe.
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The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet.
Cyril Connolly
From now on - specialize never again make any concession to the ninety-nine percent of you which is like everyon else at the expense of the one percent which is unique.
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It is a mistake to expect good work from expatriates for it is not what they do that matters but what they are not doing.
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In youth the life of reason is not in itself sufficient afterwards the life of emotion, except for short periods, becomes unbearable.
Cyril Connolly
The worst vice of the solitary is the worship of his food.
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The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication.
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In my religion all believers would stop work at sundown and have a drink together.
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There are many who dare not kill themselves for fear of what the neighbours will say.
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Poets arguing about modern poetry: jackals snarling over a dried-up well.
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How many books did Renoir write on how to paint?
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As repressed sadists are supposed to become policemen or butchers so those with an irrational fear of life become publishers.
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When in doubt, choose greatness.
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In a perfect union the man and woman are like a strung bow. Who is to say whether the string bends the bow, or the bow tightens the string?
Cyril Connolly
We cannot be happy until we can love ourselves without egotism and our friends without tyranny.
Cyril Connolly