Cyril Connolly Quotes

Cyril Connolly Quotes: The detective story itself is in a dilemma. It is a vein which is in danger of being worked out, the demand is constant, the powers of supply variable, and the reader, with each one he absorbs, grows a little more sophisticated and harder to please, while the novelist, after each one he writes, becomes a little more exhausted.
Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice; journalism what will be grasped at once.
When we have ceased to love the stench of the human animal, either in others or in ourselves, then are we condemned to misery, and clear thinking can begin.
It is after creation, in the elation of success, or the gloom of failure, that love becomes essential.
There is no fury like an ex-wife searching for a new lover.
Classical and romantic: private language of a family quarrel, a dead dispute over the distribution of emphasis between man and nature.
Beneath a mask of selfish tranquility nothing exists except bitterness and boredom.
The greatest problem with women is how to contrive that they should seem our equals
Civilization is maintained by a very few people in a small number of places and we need only some bombs and a few prisons to blot it out altogether.
There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another.
M is for Marx And clashing of classes And movement of masses And massing of asses.
Imagination is nostalgia for the past, the absent it is the liquid solution in which art develops the snapshot of reality.
While thoughts exist, words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.
Our memories are card indexes consulted and then returned in disorder by authorities whom we do not control.
The only happy talkers are dandies who extract pleasure from the very perishability of their material and who would not be able to tolerate the isolation of all other forms of composition; for most good talkers, when they have run down, are miserable; they know that they have betrayed themselves, that they have taken material which should have a life of its own, to dispense it in noises upon the air.
Beneath this mask of selfish tranquility nothing exists except bitterness and boredom. I am one of those whom suffering has made empty and frivilous: each night in my dreams I pull the scab off a wound; each day, vacuous and habit ridden, I let it reform.
Youth is a period of missed opportunities.