The authorship of some of these phrases had been forgotten for years or decades before being unearthed by a researcher. In other cases, the authors were never “lost”—their names have long been known to specialists and can be easily found with a little research—yet they are mostly unknown to the general public. Moreover, the real authors are often obscured by inaccurate attributions that have gained wide currency.
Finally, a few of these lines were crafted by women who are anonymous partly because they worked in professions that tend to be anonymous, such as screenwriting or speechwriting. I’ve included them nevertheless, because they show the range and depth of well-known quotations by women. The hallmark of almost all these cases, in fact, is that people are surprised to learn that such famous lines were written by such obscure women.
Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
Proverb? No, this too was written by a woman, an American named Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850–1919). Her 1883 poem “Solitude” begins with these words.
Does it really matter what these affectionate people do—so long as they don’t do it in the streets and frighten the horses!
Online, one can find this remark credited to King Edward VII and an eighteenth-century general, as well as to the person with the best claim: Mrs. Patrick Campbell (Beatrice Stella Tanner Campbell, 1865–1940), the preeminent actress of her time on the London stage. She used this memorable line in rebuking an actress who had complained that an actor they knew was enamored of a young leading man.
Archive for March, 2011
Westminister council, which is conservative controlled (just saying), to make feeding the homeless illegal.
Westminster council says soup runs provide a magnet for homeless people and encourage crime, begging and antisocial behaviour. It tried to ban soup runs in 2007. Daniel Astaire, Westminster council’s cabinet member for society, families and adult services, said he accepted the ban was “sensitive” but said the council had the same aim as the protesters: to get homeless people off the streets and into services that would help them turn their lives around. “Those who give up their time to help rough sleepers should be applauded, but we believe they can make a far better impact if they look for other ways to help the homeless and put their energy to good use, without delivering food on the streets.”
Figures to be published next week suggest that government spending cuts will lead to the closure of around one in six of England’s 44,000 homeless hostel beds from April. According to Homeless Link, which represents 480 homeless charities, the authorities where most hostel bed spaces have been earmarked for closure are Rochdale, Kingston upon Hull, Kensington and Chelsea, Lewisham, and Nottinghamshire and Nottingham city. Homeless Link says a survey reveals that its members expect a 25% average cut in local authority funding, with over a quarter saying they will have to reduce the number of homeless clients they work with.
There’s a great companion piece to this one, in which some journalist goes and talks to a bunch of homeless people living in Cornwall (which has the highest rate of homelessness in the uk and where it is extremely difficult to buy a house because so many rich arseholes have holiday homes there) here
or does the music from this advert…
sound a hell of alot like this reef track?
So, true to my word, i took myself off to the library to make notes from Psychological Types for the next installment of my series on Jung’s models and theories. I’ve had a thing for mister Gustav since i first learned of his ideas of the collective unconcious and synchronicity when i was but a wild eyed highschool student and have the vague intention of owning and studying his complete works at some point. I have a few volumes but that fucker sure did write and think alot! I’m thinking also of writing a general outline of Psychological Types because I feel like there isn’t enough on jung online that draws directly from his work. There’s alot in that book that explores the idea of psychological types through different lenses and from different perspectives of philisophical history. What do you think?
I ain’t got a hope today;
all died when the sound flooded in and filled my head with faulty wiring.
My eyes only half open
in this false waking. Choking down stupid little pills for a facsimilie of comfort. Takes forever to leave
Streets wailing with people like caskets constructed from nerve-endings.
I worked without gloves. It was hard to see. The mirror helps, but it also hinders — after all, it’s showing things backwards. I work mainly by touch. The bleeding is quite heavy, but I take my time — I try to work surely. Opening the peritoneum, I injured the blind gut and had to sew it up. Suddenly it flashed through my mind: there are more injuries here and I didn’t notice them … I grow weaker and weaker, my head starts to spin. Every 4-5 minutes I rest for 20-25 seconds. Finally, here it is, the cursed appendage! With horror I notice the dark stain at its base. That means just a day longer and it would have burst and …
At the worst moment of removing the appendix I flagged: my heart seized up and noticeably slowed; my hands felt like rubber. Well, I thought, it’s going to end badly. And all that was left was removing the appendix … And then I realised that, basically, I was already saved.
The existential crisis for the world’s nuclear industry could hardly have come at a worse moment. The epicentre of the world’s oil supply is disturbingly close to its own systemic crisis as the Gulf erupts in conflict.
tnx to jennie for reminding me about this song
For those that thought that yesterday was a bit flippant and lighthearted here on Either/Or/Bored here’s an article on the casualisation of the language of rape in modern society:
We live in a strange and terrible time for women. There are days, like today, where I think it has always been a strange and terrible time to be a woman. It is nothing less than horrifying to realize we live in a culture where the “paper of record” can write an article that comes off as sympathetic to eighteen rapists while encouraging victim blaming. Have we forgotten who an eleven-year-old is? An eleven-year-old is very, very young, and somehow, that amplifies the atrocity, at least for me. I also think, perhaps, people do not understand the trauma of gang rape. While there’s no benefit to creating a hierarchy of rape where one kind of rape is worse than another because rape is, at the end of day, rape, there is something particularly insidious about gang rape, about the idea that a pack of men feed on each other’s frenzy and both individually and collectively believe it is their right to violate a woman’s body in such an unspeakable manner.
Most Americans know Monsanto because of what it sells to put on our lawns— the ubiquitous weed killer Roundup. What they may not know is that the company now profoundly influences—and one day may virtually control—what we put on our tables. For most of its history Monsanto was a chemical giant, producing some of the most toxic substances ever created, residues from which have left us with some of the most polluted sites on earth. Yet in a little more than a decade, the company has sought to shed its polluted past and morph into something much different and more far-reaching—an “agricultural company” dedicated to making the world “a better place for future generations.” Still, more than one Web log claims to see similarities between Monsanto and the fictional company “U-North” in the movie Michael Clayton, an agribusiness giant accused in a multibillion-dollar lawsuit of selling an herbicide that causes cancer.
This track has crawled into my ear and has started nesting in my neo-cortex.
Just in case anybody was curious about my opinion about the forthcoming royal wedding
Sources confirmed that while Peterson has been supplied over the years with a glut of compelling evidence that life is a zero-sum game at best—including a thwarted career as a graphic designer, multiple failed relationships, and limited financial mobility—he nevertheless continues to cling to the misguided expectation that he can and will experience real serenity and joy in the long term.
The baffling man has also reportedly read a newspaper before, interacted with coworkers, knows how economies and political systems work, and is undergoing the process of aging, yet has made no effort to revise his original assumption.
“What really gets me is the confidence he seems to have that one day he will be able to shed all of the fears and anxieties that are hardwired into his DNA and the modern world will decide to stop being unrelentingly brutal and allow him some happiness,” said coworker Miles Sagal, adding that the delusional Peterson inexplicably presumes that this not only could, but should, occur. “Whenever he’s feeling low, he’ll allude to some time down the road when he’ll have it all ‘figured out.’ When exactly does he think that will happen?”
“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?” Sagal added. “He’s aware that he’s going to die, right?”
thanks be to Emma