United States, Writer October 4, 1914 – December, 27, 1997.
Brendan Gill wrote for The New Yorker for more than 60 years. He also contributed film criticism for Film Comment and wrote a popular book about his time at the New Yorker magazine.
It is in the nature of the New Yorker to be as topical as possible, on a level that is often small in scale and playful in intention.
Parody is homage gone sour.
I will try to cram these paragraphs full of facts and give them a weight and shape no greater than that of a cloud of blue butterflies.
Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious.
If it were better, it wouldn't be as good.
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