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No-one was ever made wretched in a brothel.
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
Made
Brothel
Brothels
Wretched
Ever
More quotes by Cyril Connolly
A woman's desire for revenge outlasts all her other emotions.
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We love but once, for once only are we perfectly equipped for loving.
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No one over thirty-five is worth meeting who has not something to teach us, something more than we could learn for ourselves, from a book.
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There are many who dare not kill themselves for fear of what the neighbours will say.
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Civilization is an active deposit which is formed by the combustion of the Present with the Past. Neither in countries without a Present nor in those without a Past is it to be discovered.
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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?
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Marriage is the permanent conversation between two people who talk over everything and everyone until death breaks the record.
Cyril Connolly
In my religion all believers would stop work at sundown and have a drink together.
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Life is a maze in which we take the wrong turning before we have learned to walk.
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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.
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Imprisoned in every fat man a thin one is wildly signalling to be let out.
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There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.
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Miserable Orpheus who, turning to lose his Eurydice, beholds her for the first time as well as the last.
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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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Sheep with a nasty side.
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Melancholy and remorse forms the deep leaden keel which enables us to sail into the wind of reality.
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If Montaigne is a man in the prime of life sitting in his study on a warm morning and putting down the sum of his experience in his rich, sinewy prose, then Pascal is that same man lying awake in the small hours of the night when death seems very close and every thought is heightened by the apprehension that it may be his last.
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The American language is in a state of flux based upon survival of the unfittest.
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An author arrives at a good style when his language performs what is required of it without shyness.
Cyril Connolly
When I write after dark the shades of evening scatter their purple through my prose.
Cyril Connolly