Author: Lawrence Block

Cites

• Koran (1)
  • IN: A Dance at the Slaughterhouse (1991) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: If God should punish men according to what they deserve, He would not leave so much as a beast on the back of the earth.
    FROM: The Koran, (632), Religious text, NULL
• A.C Swineburne (2)
  • IN: Everybody Dies (1998) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives forever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
    FROM: The Garden of Proserpine, (1866), Poem, UK
• John Garfield (1)
  • IN: Everybody Dies (1998) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Everybody dies.
    FROM: In Body and Soul, (1947), Film, US
• Randy Newman (1)
  • IN: Everybody Dies (1998) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Everybody dies.
    FROM: Old Man, (1972), Song, US
• Van Ronk, Dave (1)
  • IN: When the Sacred Ginmill Closes (1986) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: And so we've had another night Of poetry and poses And each man knows he'll be alone When the sacred ginmill closes.
    FROM: Last Call, (1973), Song, US
• Robert Green Ingersoll (2)
  • IN: Hope to Die (2001) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Hope is the only universal liar who never loses his reputation for veracity.
    FROM: Robert Green Ingersoll, speaking at the ManhattanLiberal Club, February 1892, (1892), NULL, US
• Lawrence Block (1)
  • IN: Hit Parade (2006) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Zai gezunt, boychik!
    FROM: Keller's Designated Hitter, (2006), Fictional, US
• William Dunbar (1)
  • IN: A Long Line of Dead Men (None) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: I that in heill wes and gladnes, Am trublit now with gret seiknes, And feblit with infermitie; Timormortis conturbat me. Our plesance here is all vain glory, This fals world is but transitory, The flesche is brukle, the Feynd is slee; Timormortis conturbat me. The stait of man does change and vary, Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary, Now dansand mery, now like to dee; Timormortis conturbat me. No stait in Erd here standis sicker; As with the wynd wavis the wicker, Wavis this warldis vanitie; Timormortis conturbat me. On to the dead gois all Estatis, Princis, prelotis, and Potestatis, Baith rich and pur of all degree; Timormortis conturbat me. He sparis no lord for his piscence, Na clerk for his intelligence; His awfull straik may no man flee; Timormortis conturbat me. Sen he hes all my brether tane, He will nocht lat me lif alane, On force I mun his next prey be; Timormortis conturbat me.
    FROM: Lament for the Makers, (1508), Poem, UK
• NULL (5)
  • IN: A Long Line of Dead Men (1994) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Lament for the Makers Look at the mourners; Bloody great hypocrites! Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead? Let's not have a sniffle Let's have a bloody good cry! And always remember the longer you live The sooner you'll bloody well die!
    FROM: An Irish Lullaby, (None), Song, Ireland
  • IN: A Walk Among the Tombstones (2014) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: baby, baby, naughty baby Hush, you squalling thing, I say Peace this moment, peace, or maybe Bonaparte will pass this way Baby, baby, he’s a giant Tall and black as Monmouth steeple And he breakfasts, dines and suppers Every day on naughty people Baby, baby, if he hears you As he gallops past the house Limb from limb at once he’ll tear you Just as pussy tears a mouse And he’ll beat you, beat you, beat you And he’ll beat you all to pap And he’ll eat you, eat you, eat you Every morsel snap snap snap!
    FROM: English Lullaby, (None), Song, UK
  • IN: The Devil Knows You’re Dead (1993) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May you be in heaven an hour before The Devil knows you’re dead.
    FROM: Irish Blessing, (None), NULL, Ireland
  • IN: A Drop of the Hard Stuff (2011) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: As the governor of North Carolina said to the governor of South Carolina, "It's a long time between drinks."
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, NULL
• Rudyard Kipling (1)
  • IN: The Burglar Who liked to Quote Kipling (1979) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: When from ’ouse to ’ouse you’re ’untin’ you must always work in pairs- It ’alves the gain, but safer you will find- For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs. An’ a woman comes and clobs ’im from be’ind. When you’ve turned ’em inside out, an’ it seems beyond a doubt As if there weren’t enough to dust a flute (Cornet: Toot! toot!)- Before you sling your ’ook, at the ’ouse-tops take a look, For it’s underneath the tiles they ’ide the loot. (Chorus.) ’Ow the loot! Bloomin’ loot! That’s the thing to make the boys git up an’ shoot! It’s the same with dogs an’ men, If you’d make ’em come again Clap ’em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! Whoopee! Tear ’im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! Loot!
    FROM: Loot, (1890), Poem, England/ India
• Dr Samuel Johnson (1)
  • IN: The Burglar In The Closet (1978) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Sir, he who would earn his bread writing books must have the assurance of a duke, the wit of a courtier, and the guts of a burglar.
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, UK
• The Talmud (1)
  • IN: Time to Murder and Create (1976) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Therefore was a single man only first created, to teach thee that whosoever destroyeth a single soul from the children of man, Scripture charges him as though he had destroyed the whole world.
    FROM: The Talmud, (500), The Talmud, NULL
• Edgar Allan Poe (1)
  • IN: Eight Million Ways To Die (1982) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.
    FROM: *The Philosophy of Composition, (1846), Essay, US
• W. H. Auden (1)
  • IN: Out on the Cutting Edge (1989) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odor of death Offends the September night…
    FROM: "September 1, 1939", (1939), Poem, England/US
• Lewis Carroll (1)
  • IN: A Diet of Treacle (1961) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse began in a great hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well—” “What did they live on?” said Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking. “They lived on treacle,” said the Dormouse. “They couldn’t have done that, you know,” Alice gently remarked. “They’d have been ill.” “So they were,” said the Dormouse. “Very ill.”
    FROM: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, (1865), Novel, UK
• Friedrich Nietzsche (1)
  • IN: All the Flowers are Dying (2006) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Listen, O judges: here is yet another madness, and that comes before the deed. Alas, you have not yet crept deep enough into this soul. Thus speaks the red judge, “Why did this criminal murder? He wanted to rob.” But I say unto you: his soul wanted blood, not robbery; he thirsted after the bliss of the knife.
    FROM: Thus Spake Zarathustra Translated by Walter Kaufmann, (1885), Novel, Germany
• Frederic Edward Weatherly (1)
  • IN: All the Flowers are Dying (2006) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are callin’, From glen to glen, and down the mountainside, The summer’s gone, the roses all are fallen, And now ’tis you must go, and I must bide. But come ye back when spring is in the meadow, Or when the hills are hushed and white with snow, Ye’ll find me there, in sunshine or in shadow, O Danny Boy, O Danny Boy, I love you so. But if ye come, and all the flowers are dyin’, And I am dead, as dead I well may be, Then you will find the place where I am lyin’, And kneel and say an Ave there for me. And I will hear, though soft you tread above me, And then my grave will warmer, softer be, And you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I will wait in peace until you come to me.
    FROM: Danny Boy, (1913), Song, UK
• Willa Cather (1)
  • IN: Even the Wicked (1996) Fiction, Mystery, Suspense, American
    EPIGRAPH: On a Tuesday night in August I was sitting… One newspaper column started the whole thing. "I'll tell you," he said, "I just don't know what… Elaine was still up when I got home, watching a… The next day was Sunday, and I didn't have a… Forty-eight hours later I'd made two more visits to the Horatio… "It's like he saw it coming," Kevin Dahlgren said. The big news over the weekend had to do with… "An Open Letter to the People ofNew York ."… It took me awhile to get away from Marty McGraw. "The first night I went to Whitfield's place," I told Elaine. Elaine was gone by the time I woke up. It still didn't have to mean anything. By the time we got out of there TJ was… "It could have been murder," I said, "even if I… The phone rang the next morning while we were having breakfast. The letter had obviously been written after its author had…. The next couple of days were a three-ring circus for the media. I couldn't do much in what was left of that afternoon. I called Viaticom a few minutes after nine the next morning… I stayed put over the weekend. You'd have thought it was a social call. It was a long night. You could almost say he'd been asking for it. "Well, look who's here," he said. SCUDDER: Please state your name for the record. "You like irony," I told Ray Gruliow. Even the wicked get worse than they deserve.
    FROM: One of Ours, (1922), Novel, US
• Emily Dickinson (1)
  • IN: A Ticket To The Boneyard (1990) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Several of nature's people I know, and they know me; I feel for them a transport Of cordiality; But never met this fellow, Attended or alone, Without a tighter breathing, And zero at the bone.
    FROM: The Snake, (1891), Poem, US
• William Butler Yeats (1)
  • IN: A Ticket To The Boneyard (1990) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: A bloody and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man would keep, Leaves what men would lose. He might have had my sister, My cousins by the score, But nothing satisfied the fool But my dear Mary Moore; None other knows what pleasures man At table or in bed. What shall I do for pretty girls Now my old bawd is dead?
    FROM: John Kinsella's Lament for Mrs. Mary Moore, (1939), Poem, Ireland
• William Shakespeare (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Settlement (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
    FROM: Julius Caesar, (1623), Play, UK
• St. Vincent Millay, Edna (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Fandango (2016) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Love had gone and left me — and the neighbors knock and borrow And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse, And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow There’s this little street and this little house.
    FROM: Ashes of Life, (1917), Poem, US
• Samuel Beckett (1)
  • IN: Step by Step (None) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: You must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.
    FROM: The Unnameable, (1953), Novel, Ireland
• Oliver Goldsmith (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Presumption (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: ll fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay.
    FROM: The Deserted Village, (1770), Poem, Ireland
• Thomas Gray (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Defense (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery sooth the dull cold ear of death?”
    FROM: Elegy, (1751), Poem, UK
• William Mackworth Praed (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Appointment (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Dame Fortune is a fickle gypsy, And always blind, and often tipsy.
    FROM: Legend of the Haunted Tree, (1837), Poem, UK
• Edgar Lee Masters (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Reverse (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: How does it happen, tell me, That I lie here unmarked, forgotten, While Chase Henry, the town drunkard, Has a marble block, topped by an urn, Wherein Nature, in a mood ironical, Has sown a flowering weed?”
    FROM: Judge Somers, (1916), Poem, US
• Christopher Smart (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Riposte (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Let Ross, house of Ross, rejoice with Obadiah, and the rankle-dankle fish with hands.
    FROM: Jubilate Agno, (1939), Poem, UK
• William Telliford (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Obligation (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Play me songs with flatted thirds: Puppets dance from bloody strings. Music mourns dead birds. Breath is sweet in broken things.
    FROM: NULL, (2012), Fictional, NULL
• William Schwenck Gilbert (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Alternative (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Things are seldom what they seem, Skim milk masquerades as cream.
    FROM: H.M.S. Pinafore, (1878), Play, UK
• Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1)
  • IN: The Ehrengraf Nostrum (2012) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!
    FROM: A Psalm of Life, (1838), Poem, US

Cited by

• Lawrence Block (1)
  • IN: Hit Parade (2006) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Zai gezunt, boychik!
    FROM: Keller's Designated Hitter, (2006), Fictional, US