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Tragicomedy Quotes

Browse 45 quotes about Tragicomedy.

Tragicomedy Quotes

“The shabbiness, even embarrassment, of Hazel Scott playing 'concert boogie woogie' before thousands of white middle-class music lovers, who all assumed that this music was Miss Scott's invention, is finally no more hideous than the spectacle of an urban, college-trained Negro musician pretending, perhaps in all sincerity, that he has the same field of emotional reference as his great-grandfather. the Mississippi slave”

“We know from subsequent leaks that the president was indeed presented with information about the seriousness of the virus and its pandemic potential beginning at least in early January 2020. And yet, as documented by the Washington Post, he repeatedly stated that “it would go away.” On February 10, when there were 12 known cases, he said that he thought the virus would “go away” by April, “with the heat.” On February 25, when there were 53 known cases, he said, “I think that’s a problem that’s going to go away.” On February 27, when there were 60 cases, he said, famously, “We have done an incredible job. We’re going to continue. It’s going to disappear. One day—it’s like a miracle—it will disappear.” On March 6, when there were 278 cases and 14 deaths, again he said, “It’ll go away.” On March 10, when there were 959 cases and 28 deaths, he said, “We’re prepared, and we’re doing a great job with it. And it will go away. Just stay calm. It will go away.” On March 12, with 1,663 cases and 40 deaths recorded, he said, “It’s going to go away.” On March 30, with 161,807 cases and 2,978 deaths, he was still saying, “It will go away. You know it—you know it is going away, and it will go away. And we’re going to have a great victory.” On April 3, with 275,586 cases and 7,087 deaths, he again said, “It is going to go away.” He continued, repeating himself: “It is going away.… I said it’s going away, and it is going away.” In remarks on June 23, when the United States had 126,060 deaths and roughly 2.5 million cases, he said, “We did so well before the plague, and we’re doing so well after the plague. It’s going away.” Such statements continued as both the cases and the deaths kept rising. Neither the virus nor Trump’s statements went away.”

“I told one of the writers that our fields were so nearly vertical that we planted our corn with a shotgun and had to breed a race of mules with legs shorter on one side than the other for plowing. And when he asked how we transported the corn down off the mountain, I said, in a jug. He appeared to believe me, so I was encouraged to go on and tell him that every church in that corner of the state, except our Indian congregation, either conducted services speaking entirely in tongues or else took up serpents as recommended by Jesus. Both the writer and I had taken a few rounds of Scotch at the time. The story appeared as fact in a well-known national periodical, along with the obligatory descriptions of the beauty and ruggedness and unmatched remoteness and mystery of our mountains.”

“Here is a tragicomic reality of all the regimes: People work hard to feed their thief politicians, their thief kings and thief queens or their thief presidents! And therefore the tragicomic reality of all the times is this: There can exist no thieves without the support of people!”

“From the geyser ventilators autumn winds are blowing down on a thousand business women having baths in Camden Town. Waste pipes chuckle into runnels, steam's escaping here and there, morning trains through Camden cutting shake the Crescent and the Square. Early nip of changeful autumn, dahlias glimpsed through garden doves, at the back precarious bathrooms jutting out from upper floors; and behind their frail partitions business women lie and soak, seeing through the draughty skylight flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor unbeloved ones, lap your loneliness in heat. All too soon the tiny breakfast, trolley-bus and windy street!”

“প্রতি সন্ধ্যায় কে যেন ইয়ার্কি করে ব্যাঙের রক্ত ঢুকিয়ে দেয় আমার শরীরে- আমি চুপ করে বসে থাকি- অন্ধকারে নীল ফানুস উড়িয়ে দেয় কারা, সারারাত বাজি পোড়ায় হৈ-হল্লা- তারপর হঠাৎ সব মোমবাতি ভোজবাজীর মত নিবে যায় একসঙ্গে- উৎসবের দিন হাওয়ার মত ছুঁটে যায়, বাঁশির শব্দ আর কানে আসে না- তখন জল দেখলেই লাফ দিতে ইচ্ছে করে আমার মনে হয়- জলের ভেতর- শরীর ডুবিয়ে মুখ উঁচু করে নিঃশ্বাস নিই সারাক্ষণ- ভালো লাগে না সুপর্ণা, আমি মানুষের মত না, আলো না, স্বপ্ন না- পায়ের পাতা আমার চওড়া হয়ে আসছে ক্রমশঃ- ঘোড়ার খুরের শব্দ শুনলেই বুক কাঁপে, তড়বড়ে নিঃশ্বাস ফেলি, ঘড়ির কাঁটা আঙুল দিয়ে এগিয়ে দিই প্রতিদিন- আমার ভালো লাগে না- শীতকাল কবে আসবে সুপর্ণা আমি তিনমাস ঘুমিয়ে থাকব”

“Morse found it nerve-wracking to cross the St. Jude grounds just as school was being dismissed, because he felt that if he smiled at the uniformed Catholic children they might think he was a wacko or pervert and if he didn't smile they might think he was an old grouch made bitter by the world, which surely, he felt, by certain yardsticks, he was. Sometimes he wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't a wacko of sorts, although certainly he wasn't a pervert. Of that he was certain. Or relatively certain. Being overly certain, he was relatively sure, was what eventually made one a wacko. So humility was the thing, he thought, arranging his face into what he thought would pass for the expression of a man thinking fondly of his own youth, a face devoid of wackiness or perversion, humility was the thing.”

“Вижу вот облако, похожее на рояль. Думаю: надо будет упомянуть где-нибудь в рассказе, что плыло облако, похожее на рояль. Пахнет гелиотропом. Скорее мотаю на ус: приторный запах, вдовий цвет, упомянуть при описании летнего вечера.”

“The sense of tragedy - according to Aristotle - comes, ironically enough, not from the protagonist's weak points but from his good qualities. Do you know what I'm getting at? People are drawn deeper into tragedy not by their defects but by their virtues. Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex being a great example. Oedipus is drawn into tragedy not because of laziness or stupidity, but because of his courage and honesty. So an inevitable irony results. ... [But] we accept irony through a device called metaphor. And through that we grow and become deeper human beings.”

“Нравственные поговорки бывают удивительно полезны в тех случаях, когда мы от себя мало что можем выдумать себе в оправдание.”

“Her look became frantic. “You don’t understand,” she said. “Maybe it’s different in the wild land you come from, Mr. Bouchard. But here gentlemen are always right. And girls like me are always sluts once they have lost their m-maidenhood. That is what I will be called if anyone knows. Or whore. Please, Mr. Bouchard.” Her hands clawed at the lapels of his coat. “Sh, ma petite,” he said, drawing her into his arms again, soothing her. “Sacré coeur, sometimes I forget that now I am in a civilized nation where maidens who are raped are sluts and ’ores. Civilization is a wonderful thing, n’est-ce pas?”

“Each woman's story, Edith's especially but Rose's too, is a kind of English story told over and over in fiction and film but rarely in works of history; the tragicomedy of someone who could not perform the ordinariness expected of them.”

“Варвары не было дома. Клавдия мыла полы в горницах. Передонов вошёл в кухню вымыть руки. На столе увидел он свёрток синей бумаги, и из него высыпались несколько изюминок. Это был фунт изюма, купленый для булки к чаю, - её пекли дома. Передонов принялся есть изюм, как он был, немытый и нечищенный, и съел весь фунт быстро и жадно, стоя у стола, озираясь на дверь, чтобы Клавдия не вошла невзначай. Потом он тщательно свернул толстую синюю обёртку, под сюртуком вынес её в переднюю, и там положил в карман пальто, чтобы на улице выбросить и таким способом уничтожить следы.”