Edward Gorey
Edward Gorey
Edward St. John Goreywas an American writer and artist noted for his illustrated books. His characteristic pen-and-ink drawings often depict vaguely unsettling narrative scenes in Victorian and Edwardian settings...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth22 February 1925
CountryUnited States of America
thinking might might-have-been
I don't think anything might have been. What is, is.
rain thinking snow
A small and sinister snow seems to be coming down relentlessly at present. The radio says it is eventually going to be sleet and rain, but I don't think so; I think it is just going to go on and on, coming down, until the whole world...etc. It has that look.
children thinking trying
If you're doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there'd be no point. I'm trying to think if there's sunny nonsense. Sunny, funny nonsense for children — oh, how boring, boring, boring. As Schubert said, there is no happy music. And that's true, there really isn't. And there's probably no happy nonsense, either.
thinking world life-is
My mission in life is to make everybody as uneasy as possible. I think we should all be as uneasy as possible, because that's what the world is like.
writing thinking boredom
I really think I write about everyday life. I don't think I'm quite as odd as others say I am. Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.
regret interviewers
Interviewer: What is your greatest regret? Gorey: That I don't have one
circumstances happenings dues
More is happening out there than we are aware of. It is possibly due to some unknown direful circumstance.
fashion passion excess
Such excess of passion is quite out of fashion
fall way
Not everything in life can be interpreted metaphorically; that's because things fall out on the way.
might might-have-been has-beens
What is, is, and what might have been could never have existed.
light tears bed
Having got into bed and turned out the light, I quietly burst into tears because I am not a good person. As they came and went for some minutes, I was concerned with the words following 'because' in the previous sentence, rewriting them over and over in my head until they seemed to be as close to the truth as it was possible for me to make them.
black firsts stopping
There was a young lady named Mae Who smoked without stopping all day; As pack followed pack, Her lungs first turned black, And eventually rotted away.
suicide regret fall
The Suicide, as she is falling, Illuminated by the moon, Regrets her act, and finds appalling The thought she will be dead so soon.
distance twilight party
Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.