james thurber quotes

A large spider in an old house built a beautiful web in which to catch flies.
Every time a fly landed on the web and was entangled in it the spider devoured
him, so that when another fly came along he would think the web was a safe and
quiet place in which to rest. One day a fairly intelligent fly buzzed around
above the web so long without lighting that the spider appeared and said,
“Come on down." But the fly was too clever for him and said, ”I never light
where I don't see other flies and I don't see any other flies in your house."
So he flew away until he came to a place where there were a great many other
flies. He was about to settle down among them when a bee buzzed up and said,
"Hold it, stupid, that's flypaper. All those flies are trapped." "Don't be
silly," said the fly, "they're dancing." So he settled down and became stuck
to the flypaper with all the other flies.

Moral: There is no safety in numbers, or in anything else.
-- James Thurber, "The Fairly Intelligent Fly"

Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around us in awareness.
-- James Thurber

Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least
when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.

-- James Thurber

Seeing is deceiving. It's eating that's believing.
-- James Thurber

Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around us in awareness.
-- James Thurber

Seeing is deceiving. It's eating that's believing.
-- James Thurber

“I don't understand," said the scientist, ”why you lemmings all rush down
to the sea and drown yourselves."

"How curious," said the lemming. "The one thing I don't understand is why
you human beings don't."
-- James Thurber

Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least
when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.
-- James Thurber

Progress was all right. Only it went on too long.
-- James Thurber

Another greeting card category consists of those persons who send out
photographs of their families every year. In the same mail that brought the
greetings from Marcia and Philip, my friend found such a conversation piece.
“My God, Lida is enormous!” she exclaimed. I don't know why women want to
record each year, for two or three hundred people to see, the ravages wrought
upon them, their mates, and their progeny by the artillery of time, but
between five and seven per cent of Christmas cards, at a rough estimate, are
family groups, and even the most charitable recipient studies them for little
signs of dissolution or derangement. Nothing cheers a woman more, I am afraid,
than the proof that another woman is letting herself go, or has lost control
of her figure, or is clearly driving her husband crazy, or is obviously
drinking more than is good for her, or still doesn't know what to wear.
Middle-aged husbands in such photographs are often described as looking
"young enough to be her son," but they don't always escape so easily, and a
couple opening envelopes in the season of mercy and good will sometimes handle
a male friend or acquaintance rather sharply. "Good Lord!" the wife will say.
"Frank looks like a sex-crazed shotgun slayer, doesn't he?" "Not to me," the
husband may reply. "to me he looks more like a Wilkes-Barre dentist who is
being sought by the police in connection with the disappearance of a choir
singer."
-- James Thurber, "Merry Christmas"

Well, I'm disenchanted too. We're all disenchanted.
-- James Thurber

Let the meek inherit the earth -- they have it coming to them.
-- James Thurber

A large spider in an old house built a beautiful web in which to catch flies.
Every time a fly landed on the web and was entangled in it the spider devoured
him, so that when another fly came along he would think the web was a safe and
quiet place in which to rest. One day a fairly intelligent fly buzzed around
above the web so long without lighting that the spider appeared and said,
“Come on down." But the fly was too clever for him and said, ”I never light
where I don't see other flies and I don't see any other flies in your house."
So he flew away until he came to a place where there were a great many other
flies. He was about to settle down among them when a bee buzzed up and said,
"Hold it, stupid, that's flypaper. All those flies are trapped." "Don't be
silly," said the fly, "they're dancing." So he settled down and became stuck
to the flypaper with all the other flies.

Moral: There is no safety in numbers, or in anything else.
-- James Thurber, "The Fairly Intelligent Fly"

Love is what you've been through with somebody.
-- James Thurber

Progress was all right. Only it went on too long.
-- James Thurber

One martini is alright, two is too many, three is not enough.

-- James Thurber, American humorist (1894-1961)

Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least
when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.
-- James Thurber

Love is what you've been through with somebody.
-- James Thurber

Let the meek inherit the earth -- they have it coming to them.
-- James Thurber

“I don't understand," said the scientist, ”why you lemmings all rush down
to the sea and drown yourselves."

"How curious," said the lemming. "The one thing I don't understand is why
you human beings don't."
-- James Thurber

Well, I'm disenchanted too. We're all disenchanted.
-- James Thurber

Another greeting card category consists of those persons who send out
photographs of their families every year. In the same mail that brought the
greetings from Marcia and Philip, my friend found such a conversation piece.
“My God, Lida is enormous!” she exclaimed. I don't know why women want to
record each year, for two or three hundred people to see, the ravages wrought
upon them, their mates, and their progeny by the artillery of time, but
between five and seven per cent of Christmas cards, at a rough estimate, are
family groups, and even the most charitable recipient studies them for little
signs of dissolution or derangement. Nothing cheers a woman more, I am afraid,
than the proof that another woman is letting herself go, or has lost control
of her figure, or is clearly driving her husband crazy, or is obviously
drinking more than is good for her, or still doesn't know what to wear.
Middle-aged husbands in such photographs are often described as looking
"young enough to be her son," but they don't always escape so easily, and a
couple opening envelopes in the season of mercy and good will sometimes handle
a male friend or acquaintance rather sharply. "Good Lord!" the wife will say.
"Frank looks like a sex-crazed shotgun slayer, doesn't he?" "Not to me," the
husband may reply. "to me he looks more like a Wilkes-Barre dentist who is
being sought by the police in connection with the disappearance of a choir
singer."
-- James Thurber, "Merry Christmas"