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Quote by Sorin Suciu

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The Scriptlings

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Sorin Suciu

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“Since my school days when I accidentally discovered this form of verse called ‘Limerick’, I have often wondered about the origin of the name. Was it invented in Ireland perhaps? After some research and several years, I think not. The limerick must have been invented long before it reached the jocular pubs of Limerick in Ireland where the Irish undoubtedly made very good use of it whilst consuming copious amounts of Guinness.”

LimericksHumorous Verse
Book:An A - Z of Looney Limericks
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“It was Edward Lear who created the original limerick, and is credited with A Book of Nonsense (1846). Apparently, he did this to amuse his clients’ children while they were waiting for their parents’ having portraits painted. Edward Lear was an artist first and a poet last. How strange then that we remember him mostly for limericks? Since writing many of these little jocular verses, I have noticed a strange effect that keeps you reading: each time you read one limerick, you just cannot help reading the next, especially when they are nicely set out on a page. I am particularly proud of my lim-sagas, of which only two are contained in this book, but I consider them the best of my collection.”

LimericksHumorous Verse
Book:An A - Z of Looney Limericks
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“It pains me to see how modern society has totally corrupted the limerick and given it the reputation of lewdness which, in turn, has morally barred our children from even taking a peek into this wonderful form of fun and rhythm. I think Edward Lear would turn in his grave if he knew that. I have therefore decided to reinvent the limerick as it was originally intended: to poke fun, irreverence, just plain daftness, or erroneous behaviour.”

LimericksHumorous Verse
Book:An A - Z of Looney Limericks
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“She was bad at love. There were people in the world who were good at love and people who were bad at it. She was bad. She used to think she was good at love, that it was intimacy she was bad at. But you had to have both. Love without intimacy, she knew, was an unsung tune. It was all in your head. You said, "Listen to this!" but what you found yourself singing was a tangle, a nothing, a heap. It reminded her of a dinner party she had gone to once, where dessert was served on plates printed with French songs. After dinner everyone had had to sing their plate, but hers had still had whipped cream on it, and when it came her turn, she had garbled the notes and words, frantically pushing the whipped cream around with a fork so she could see the next measure. Oh, she was bad, bad like that, at love.”

LoveIntamacy
Author:Lorrie Moore
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