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Fate weaves the darkness, which is perhaps why she weaves so badly.

Max Beerbohm

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Max Beerbohm
Age: 83 †
Born: 1872
Born: August 24
Died: 1956
Died: May 20
Caricaturist
Comedian
Drawer
Essayist
Illustrator
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Painter
Poet
Watercolorist
Writer
London
England
Sir Max Beerbohm
Sir Henry Maximilian Beerbohm
Sir Beerbohm
Henry Maximilian Beerbohm
Weaves
Badly
Fate
Darkness
Perhaps

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A crowd, proportionately to its size, magnifies all that in its units pertains to the emotions, and diminishes all that in them pertains to thought.
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People who insist on telling their dreams are among the terrors of the breakfast table.
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I need no dictionary of quotations to remind me that the eyes are the windows of the soul.
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The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play.
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Only mediocrity can be trusted to be always at its best. Genius must always have lapses proportionate to its triumphs.
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True dandyism is the result of an artistic temperament working upon a fine body within the wide limits of fashion.
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I am a Tory anarchist. I should like everyone to go about doing just as he pleased - short of altering any of the things to which I have grown accustomed.
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I was a modest, good-humoured boy. It is Oxford that has made me insufferable.
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There is in the human race some dark spirit of recalcitrance, always pulling us in the direction contrary to that in which we are reasonably expected to go.
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The one real goal of education is to leave a person asking questions.
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Good sense about trivialities is better than nonsense about things that matter.
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Improvisation is the essence of good talk. Heaven defend us from the talker who doles out things prepared for us but let heaven not less defend us from the beautiful spontaneous writer who puts his trust in the inspiration of the moment.
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Not philosophy, after all, not humanity, just sheer joyous power of song, is the primal thing in poetry.
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A quiet city is a contradiction in terms. It is a thing uncanny, spectral.
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All fantasy should have a solid base in reality.
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Only the insane take themselves seriously.
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Death cancels all engagements.
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It is a part of English hypocrisy or English reserve, that whilst we are fluent enough in grumbling about small inconveniences, we insist on making light of any great difficulties or grief's that may beset us.
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Women who love the same man have a kind of bitter freemasonry.
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Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most of her time in looking for a man's footprint.
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