Author: Kyril Bonfiglioli

Cites

• Robert Browning (18)
  • IN: Mortdecai (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: So, I soberly laid my last plan To extinguish the man. Round his creep-hole, with never a break Ran my fires for his sake; Over-head, did my thunder combine With my underground mine: Till I looked from my labour content To enjoy the event.
    FROM: Instans Tyrannus, (1855), Poem, UK
  • IN: Don't Point That Thing At Me (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: So old a story, and tell it no better?
    FROM: Pippa Passes, (1841), Poem, UK
• Bishop Blougram (1)
  • IN: Mortdecai (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: I am the man you see here plain enough: Grant I'm a beast, why, beasts must lead beasts' lives! Suppose I own at once to tail and claws; The tailless man exceeds me: but being tailed I'll lash out lion-fashion, and leave apes To dock their stump and dress their haunches up, My business is not to remake myself, But make the absolute best of what God made. And as this cabin gets upholstery, That hutch should rustle with sufficient straw.
    FROM: Apology, (1855), Poem, UK
• Paracelsus (1)
  • IN: Mortdecai (1972) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: ...Bearing aloft another Ganymede On pinions imped, as 't were, but not past bearing, Nor unfit yet for the fowler's purposes; Feathered, in short, as a prince o' th'air – no moorgame. If Paracelsus weighs that jot, this tittle, God knows your atomy were ponderable – (Love weighing t'other pan down!) ... ... in a word, In half a word's space, – let's say, ere you flinched, Or Paracelsus wove one of those thoughts, Lighter than lad's-love, delicate as death, I'd draft you thither.
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, NULL
• NULL (1)
  • IN: The Great Mortdecai Moustache (1999) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: From An Envoi to a Projected Work And patiently, O Reader, I thee pray, Take in good part this work as it is meant, And grieve thee not with ought that I shall say, Since with good will this book abroad is sent, To tell men how in youth I did assay What love did mean and now I it repent: That musing me my friends might well beware. And keep them free from all such pain and care.
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, NULL
• Algernon Charles Swinburne (1)
  • IN: Something Nasty in the Woodshed (1976) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble, Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink, Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink, Here now in his triumph where all things falter, Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread, As a good self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
    FROM: A Forsaken Garden, (1876), Poem, UK