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| Author |
Message |
remmers
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The Mysterious Quote
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Mar 22 12:58 UTC 1996 |
Here's how this game works: The person who's "it" enters a quote
from a published work. It can be fiction, nonfiction, poetry,
anything. The challenge is to guess the *author* of the quote.
The first person to guess correctly is now "it" and gets to
choose the next quote. (You should wait for your guess to be
confirmed by the person who entered the quote before going
ahead and giving a new one.)
If people are having trouble guessing your author, it's considered
polite to give hints or offer up an additional quote by the same
author.
When you give a guess, it's always nice if you can indicate the
reasoning behind it. One object of this game is to learn a little
more about literature.
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| 290 responses total. |
davel
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response 1 of 290:
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Mar 22 13:12 UTC 1996 |
Um, John, you're supposed to have entered a quote, remember? (John is it,
everyone, from the winter game.)
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remmers
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response 2 of 290:
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Mar 22 13:17 UTC 1996 |
I just guessed the author in the winter agora quote item, so it's
my turn to give a quote. Here goes:
Well, you have to carry on. You have to carry on. He
decided to switch his shower from morning to night.
This showed adaptability, he felt--some freshness of
spirit. While he showered he let the water collect
in the tub, and he stalked around in noisy circles,
sloshing the day's dirty clothes underfoot. Later he
wrung out the clothes and hung them on hangers to
dry. Then he dressed in tomorrow's underwear so he
wouldn't have to launder any pajamas. In fact, his
only real laundry was a load of towels and sheets
once a week--just two towels, but quite a lot of
sheets. This was because he had developed a system
that enabled him to sleep in clean sheets every
night without the trouble of bed changing. He'd
been proposing the system to Sarah for years, but
she was so set in her ways. What he did was strip
the mattress of all linens, replacing them with a
giant sort of envelope made from one of the seven
sheets he had folded and stitched together on the
sewing machine. He thought of this invention as a
Macon Leary Body Bag. A body bag required no tuck-
ing in, and the perfect weight for summer nights.
In winter he would have to devise something warmer,
but he couldn't think of winter yet. He was barely
making it from one day to the next as it was.
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remmers
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response 3 of 290:
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Mar 22 13:18 UTC 1996 |
(Dave's response slipped in...)
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davel
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response 4 of 290:
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Mar 22 14:11 UTC 1996 |
John Updike?
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meg
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response 5 of 290:
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Mar 22 17:19 UTC 1996 |
Nope, it's the Accidental Tourist. Damn, the author's name ran right
out of my head. Anne... damn.
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meg
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response 6 of 290:
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Mar 22 17:30 UTC 1996 |
Hah! I thunk it. Anne Tyler.
Have to wait for my quote till I get home, nothing quoteworthy
here at work except for UNIX books and Novell manuals and stuff.
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remmers
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response 7 of 290:
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Mar 22 17:45 UTC 1996 |
Anne Tyler is correct. Nice going, Meg. I'd hoped it would be
harder. (The movie version of _Accidental Tourist_ is one of
my favorites of recent years.)
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davel
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response 8 of 290:
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Mar 22 21:15 UTC 1996 |
(I once, when it was my turn, posted a manual section, & was soundly ignored.
You're wise to wait until you get home, Meg.)
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meg
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response 9 of 290:
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Mar 22 23:02 UTC 1996 |
Ok, this is a little long, and I even trimmed a bit out of the middle,
but it's one of my favorite sections in this particular piece of
literature. remmers will probly know it.
------------------
The cause of his pain was a slim woman, possibly twenty-seven,
with compressed lips, a thin little straight nose, and heavy red hair.
She looked, and she was, strict. But she was a woman, and therefore
susceptible to male charm, such as inhered in Herbie - and,
unfortunately, in Mr. Mortimer Gorkin. The boy glanced at her and
felt a pang of self-pity. He could tell by her soft look that she
felt sorry for him and wanted to comfort him. Immediately he resolved
not to be comforted at any cost.
.. <some cut out here> ..
"What's the matter, Herbie, really?" asked the teacher.
"Nothing."
"Oh, yes there is."
"Oh, no, there isn't - *Mrs. Gorkin*."
The shot went home; the teacher colored a little. Perhaps pretty
Diana Vernon was herself not quite happy about becoming Mrs. Gorkin.
The name still rang strangely in the bride's ears.
"Herbie," said the teacher with an uncomfortable smile, "even
though I'm Mrs. Gorkin now, we're still friends, aren't we?"
(The injured male may be eleven or fifty; the approach of the
injuring female does not vary.)
"Sure," said Herbie, dolefully. He hitched up his sagging gray
kneepants.
"Someday," said Mrs. Gorkin, "I hope yo uwill meet Morti - that is,
Mr. Gorkin. He's assistant principal at Public School 75. I know he'd
like you. He admires clever young men."
Herbie saw through the compliment with contempt. "Sure," he
said again.
The erstwhile Diana Vernon said, "Come closer, Herbie." The boy
reluctantly obeyed, sidling along the edge of the desk, his hands
resting on top. The teacher put her hand on his. He jerked it away.
"When you are as old as I am, Herbie," said Diana Gorkin softly,
"you will be a handsomer man than my husband, and you will marry a
finer woman than I am, and I hope you'll remember to bring her back
here and let me meet her, but I doubt that you will."
This speech had no meaning at all for Herbie, who knew perfectly
well that he would never be as old as a teacher. "Sure," he said
once more. Mrs. Gorkin unwrapped a sandwich, and acknowledged defeat
by a curt dismissal. The boy retreated to his desk, snatched his lunch
bag, and scurried from the classroom.
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remmers
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response 10 of 290:
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Mar 23 13:38 UTC 1996 |
Hmm, no, I don't know it. <remmers ponders>
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janc
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response 11 of 290:
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Mar 23 18:54 UTC 1996 |
I don't know either, but I'll take a shot in the dark: Jean Shepard?
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meg
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response 12 of 290:
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Mar 23 22:16 UTC 1996 |
Nope.
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orinoco
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response 13 of 290:
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Mar 26 02:57 UTC 1996 |
hmm...
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rust
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response 14 of 290:
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Mar 26 14:39 UTC 1996 |
"hmm..." that surely "sounds" mysterious?!
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moza
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response 15 of 290:
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Mar 27 12:34 UTC 1996 |
exitquit
quit
o
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popcorn
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response 16 of 290:
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Mar 27 17:37 UTC 1996 |
This response has been erased.
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meg
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response 17 of 290:
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Mar 27 18:19 UTC 1996 |
Hrmph, I guess nobody can guess this one.
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rcurl
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response 18 of 290:
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Mar 27 19:40 UTC 1996 |
I'll guess .... its from the second half of the 20th century.
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janc
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response 19 of 290:
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Mar 28 02:11 UTC 1996 |
Maybe we need a clue or another segment.
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rcurl
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response 20 of 290:
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Mar 28 03:22 UTC 1996 |
If it had been in first person I would have guessed Garrison Keeler.
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meg
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response 21 of 290:
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Mar 28 06:36 UTC 1996 |
re #18 - *almost* - it was first published in 1948.
Well, the author is a very well known novelist, though not for this
particular work. This was one of his/her first efforts, and didn't
really hit it big till other later works had made it big. Many of
this person's books have made it to stage, screen and/or TV.
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davel
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response 22 of 290:
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Mar 28 15:00 UTC 1996 |
Umm. George Orwell? (Wild guess based on comments I once heard
about _Keep the Aspidistera Flying_, no more. I really don't
think "many" of Orwell's works have3 made it to other media.)
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robh
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response 23 of 290:
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Mar 28 15:57 UTC 1996 |
Mmm, can't be Orwell, he wrote _1984_ in 1948, and that's not what
I'd call one of his lesser-known works. >8)
Sadly, I'm still stumped.
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davel
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response 24 of 290:
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Mar 28 18:51 UTC 1996 |
I thought it was a couple of years too late for Orwell's first, as well.
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