Petite Quotes
Find a cosy table
Inside a restaurant,
Somewhere formidable
Where you'll be très contents.
Let your lady fair know
That she is all you see,
Prime her with a Pernod
Or three.
Watch her crack a lobster
And strip it to the buff,
Rough as when a mobster
Gets tough.
Keep the wine cascading
And you'll ensure
Une petite spécialité called l'amour....
Anthony Burgess
And they say that after people make love there's a kind of melancholia that descends; la petite mort, you know, the little death. Well, I'm here to tell you, after a romantic night in with yourself, there's a very acute sensation of failed suicide. And I think a lot of that, if you're men is because of the quality of the gear you've got to work with. I mean it's horrible looking. Like a deep sea fish that ate its own arse after about an hour. What's going on down there?! Do something nice, like a kittens head... or something and you could just tickle its chin until it got sick... it would be alright...
Dylan Moran
Do they lie? Fervently. Do they steal? Only silver and gold. Do they remember? I am in constant touch. Hardly a day passes. The children. Some can't spell, still. Took a walk in the light-manufacturing district, where everything's been converted. Lots of little shops, wine bars. Saw some strange things. Saw a group of square steel plates arranged on a floor. Very interesting. Saw a Man Mountain Dean dressed in heavenly blue. Wild, chewing children. They were small. Petite. Out of scale. They came and went. Doors banging. They were of different sexes but wore similar clothes. Wandered away, then they wandered back. They're vague, you know, they tell you things in a vague way. Asked me to leave, said they'd had enough. Enough what? I asked. Enough of my lip, they said. Although the truth was that I had visited upon them only the palest of apothegms-the one about the salt losing its savor, the one about the fowls of the air.
Donald Barthelme
There is nothing more deplorable than those skeptics and reformers, liberal priests and humanistically-oriented scholars, who moan about "soullessness,” "barren materialism,” what is "unsatisfying in mere science,” and the "cold play of atoms,” and renounce intellectual precision, which is for them only a slight temptation. Then, with the help of some alleged "emotional knowledge” to satisfy the feelings, and with the "necessary” harmony and rounding-out of the world picture, all they invent is some universal spirit: a world-soul, or a God, who is nothing more than the world of the academic petite bourgeoisie which gives rise to him; at best, an oversoul who reads the newspaper and demonstrates a certain appreciation of social questions.
Robert Musil
The Mummy's Tomb was my only horror film, so I remember it vividly. We had to work all night on the kidnapping and graveyard scenes. Lon Chaney Jr. had a strap around his neck to support me. One arm was supposed to be paralyzed and he could only hold me with the other arm. I had this negligee with marabou-and one of the feathers somehow got under Lon's rubber mummy mask. He was one unhappy actor-because he couldn't get it out. After it was over, he thanked me for being petite. It seems some of my predecessors were a little on the heavy side! The day of the kidnapping scene-where the Mummy takes me from my bed, the director told me, "When you see him you really have to scream!" He thought since I'd never done anything like that before, I wouldn't be able to do it. One look at Lon Chaney Jr. coming at me and it wasn't hard to let out that scream at all!
Elyse Knox
