Edmund Crispin Quotes
Down the Woodstock Road towards them an elderly, abnormally thin man was pedalling, his thin white hair streaming in the wind and sheer desperation in his eyes. Immediately behind him, running for their lives, came Scylla and Charybdis; behind them, a milling, shouting rout of undergraduates, with Mr Adrian Barnaby (on a bicycle) well in the van; behind them, the junior proctor, the University Marshal, and two bullers, packed into a small Austin car and looking very elect, severe and ineffectual; and last of all, faint but pursuing, lumbered the ungainly form of Mr Hoskins.
Quotes to Explore
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I realise I have inadvertently become a source of inspiration and hope for people in India simply by the fact that I grew up there, went to my local university, but could go on to do well internationally.
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When I went to university in Colorado, I was encouraged to write very innovative, experimental things, and some of the short stories in 'Bearded Ladies' are a little bit experimental.
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I never went to a university, and I am proud to say so because I don't think I have done too badly.
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My mum wanted me to go to university.
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I'm an example of someone who never made it to university. I did have this dream to be a musician. I felt that this dream had an expiration date.
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I've always been partial to werewolves, perhaps because there's a desperation to their plight that resonates.
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I studied engineering in the national university, the Universidad Autonoma, in San Ildefonso.
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I'm totally in love with Jane Austen and have always been in love with Jane Austen. I did my dissertation at university on black people in eighteenth-century Britain - so I'd love to do a Jane Austen-esque film but with black people.
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I was gonna work in a university, but no one was hiring.
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I did nothing wrongEverything I've done at this university I did the right way.
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If I were not a king, I would be a university man; and if it were so that I must be a prisoner, if I might have my wish, I would desire to have no other prison than that library [the Bodleian].
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As an adult, the only people who care about horror movies are academics. No one loves to talk about horror films more than somebody with a Ph.D. in cultural studies at a university.
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Personally I am in favour of education but a university is not the place for it.
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I was delighted to not go to university. I couldn't wait to be out of education.
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Consequences lost all purchase when they became mad. And desperation, when pressed beyond anguish, became narcotic.
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I'm a huge supporter of anything that nurtures creativity, the nearest thing that you'd get in this conversation which is vaguely political would be for the survival of the creative arts in school at the youngest age possible through university.
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See the gold sunshine patching, And streaming and streaking across The gray-green oaks; and catching, By its soft brown beard, the moss.
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In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon.
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My parents, they're the kind of people that didn't want me to get a big head, so they just kept challenging me and challenging me.
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In order to make a change, I have to exist in a traditionally homophobic space such as hip-hop. If I were to just be this queer rapper who only spoke to queer kids... I don't think I could as effectively make a change for another young, black, queer kid growing up in Texas.
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If we command our wealth, we shall be rich and free; if our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed.
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Writers always have confidence issues - it comes with the territory. We never know where we fit in, or what the actual value of our work might be. So we hit lulls, or slogs. Throw in the idea that many creative people are somewhat manic-depressive, and it can get pretty dark at times.
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Down the Woodstock Road towards them an elderly, abnormally thin man was pedalling, his thin white hair streaming in the wind and sheer desperation in his eyes. Immediately behind him, running for their lives, came Scylla and Charybdis; behind them, a milling, shouting rout of undergraduates, with Mr Adrian Barnaby (on a bicycle) well in the van; behind them, the junior proctor, the University Marshal, and two bullers, packed into a small Austin car and looking very elect, severe and ineffectual; and last of all, faint but pursuing, lumbered the ungainly form of Mr Hoskins.
