Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.
quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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I have learned not to read reviews. Period. And I hate reviewers. All of them, or at least all but two or three. Life is much simpler ignoring reviews and the nasty people who write them. Critics should find meaningful work.
quote by John Grisham
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The artist doesn't have time to listen to the critics. The ones who want to be writers read the reviews, the ones who want to write don't have the time to read reviews.
quote by William Faulkner
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I really do hope that the people will like 14:59. The critics seem to like it. We got a lot of good reviews.
quote by Mark McGrath
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We have gotten some terrible reviews at times but if we depended on the judgment of the studios or critics, we never would have made more than one movie.
quote by Ismail Merchant
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The critic
The status of critics has changed,
The most important critics were those who stood on street
corners
Full of gossip and finger wagging
Or the busty burly matrons whispering over washing lines
These critics were the slanderers
The little vipers who hung by the school gate
Some still do,
This time they sink a pint or two,
In the pub with a couple of pug nose friends
But there is a class of critics
That whitewash your pale white words
Austere and aloof from the proof,
Scrubbed clean and mean,
They murder sentiment
Mock fools without 'a scene'
Redefining the 'new' 'illiterattii, ' who never went to school'
These critics wear brogues.....? ?
Am I being cruel? [or just ironic? ]
The men drink whisky
The women a gin/ vodka and tonic!
Fifty years ago they would 'parade'
In a uniforn of tweed and plaid
Post public school
But some critics just thumbnail through
Half asleep over scripts they render dead/ unread
'They are not amused'
So don't lose any sleep
They have no time you
yvette smith may 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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The film's success so far involves winning a couple of prizes at Cannes and Sundance, and getting some very nice reviews in newspapers and magazines. That hasn't had a big impact on my life yet.
quote by Harvey Pekar
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All over the web there are some very good critics and it's become for people who are interested. It's become a very good way to get to reviews and involve yourself in discussions.
quote by Roger Ebert
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Many of our soldiers are stationed at Camp Coyote just south of the Iraqi border. This is how you know we have a strong army, when you can actually tell your enemy exactly where your camp is and what its name is.
quote by Jon Stewart
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Those Times
Remember
Those times
When I used to
See movies…
And share their
Reviews…
With you?
Now, when I see
Movies, I think of
You, the reviews
Get lost in thin air,
Remembering those
Times I wrote to you.
(Theme: Reviews)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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An author ought to write for the youth of his own generation, the critics of the next, and the schoolmaster of ever afterwards.
quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald
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The reason we have not gone to newspapers is because its a slow growth industry and I think they are dying. I'm not sure there will be newspapers in 10 years. I read newspapers every day. I even read Murdoch's Wall Street Journal.
quote by Sumner Redstone
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You know what the critics are. If you tell the truth they only say you're cynical and it does an author no good to get a reputation for cynicism.
quote by W. Somerset Maugham
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As a 22-year Army Veteran who served in Operations Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom, and as a Civilian Advisor to the Afghan Army in Operation Enduring Freedom, I understand both the gravity of giving the order, and the challenge of carrying it out.
quote by Allen West
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All The Critics Love U In New York
U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
U don't have 2 keep the beat
They'll still think it's neat in New York
U can wear what U want 2
It doesn't matter in New York
U could cut off all your hair
I don't think they'd care in New York
All the critics love U in New York
Why U can play what U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
They won't say that U're naive
If U play what U believe in New York
Purple love-amour is all U're in it 4
But don't show it
The reason that U're cool
Is cuz U're from the old school and they know it
All the critics love U in New York
U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
All the critics love U
song performed by by Prince from 1999
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easy Has Not Been The Word
The challenge was first,
To do it.
To move in that direction,
Pursuing what some said...
I could not do.
The next was to improve,
Upon that which I pursued.
And remaining focused and true...
To that which I chose to do.
Then the real test came,
When I began to hear my name.
And instead of support,
Out from the woodwork critics came.
The next challenge I faced,
Was to appear in public...
Without a sign of emotion to be traced.
Nor quick to defend...
Or attempt to erase those steps I placed.
And 'easy' has not been the word,
To take or describe...
Some of the things I've heard,
From those who have tried...
To discredit my efforts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Challenge. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
I have a vague remembrance
Of a story, that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
Or chronicle of old.
It was when brave King Sanchez
Was before Zamora slain,
And his great besieging army
Lay encamped upon the plain.
Don Diego de Ordonez
Sallied forth in front of all,
And shouted loud his challenge
To the warders on the wall.
All the people of Zamora,
Both the born and the unborn,
As traitors did he challenge
With taunting words of scorn.
The living, in their houses,
And in their graves, the dead!
And the waters of their rivers,
And their wine, and oil, and bread!
There is a greater army,
That besets us round with strife,
A starving, numberless army,
At all the gates of life.
The poverty-stricken millions
Who challenge our wine and bread,
And impeach us all as traitors,
Both the living and the dead.
And whenever I sit at the banquet,
Where the feast and song are high,
Amid the mirth and the music
I can hear that fearful cry.
And hollow and haggard faces
Look into the lighted hall,
And wasted hands are extended
To catch the crumbs that fall.
For within there is light and plenty,
And odors fill the air;
But without there is cold and darkness,
And hunger and despair.
And there in the camp of famine,
In wind and cold and rain,
Christ, the great Lord of the army,
Lies dead upon the plain!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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When you have a foreign invasion - in this case by the Indonesian army - writers, intellectuals, newspapers and magazines are the first targets of repression.
quote by Antonio Tabucchi
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A Special Greeting card
I was really amazed
It's from our Grandson!
A pencil drawing of a Gocart
Two old fashioned figures sitting inside
And he pushes.
Oh! He writes poetry in capital letters
Perhaps he thinks that we cannot read simple letters?
'Do not worry my dear Grandma & Grandpa
Sorry, I heard that your car has run into a junk-yard.
When I come to America
I'll push you to Grand Canyon in my cart
If you guide me along the road?
I pasted some pictures of Grand Canyon on my scrap-book
You know my girl friend 'Priyanwada' gave me.'
*I added this;
Hey! Sonny you looks like your naughty old Man
And why don't you send us her photograph?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A novel situation
She looked not unlike the anti-heroine
of her own novels
or was it the other way around?
mousey but together,
neatly dressed
in an understated way
like her Paris dressmaker mother
who'd fled Vienna
Though in fact she was a brilliant bluestocking lecturer
and trenchant critic
who'd embarked, on the side,
on novel writing
However the British
don't like people who do two things well
and the critics - mostly men -
panned her rotten
while the women reserved judgment.
She had a standard plot -
mousey, together spinster
meets possible, quiet Him
who might be The One
but who turns out too morally wet
for Her.
But her increasing sublety with variations to this
and increasing literary skills
won her praise from feminist critics
and even a minor prize.
I had expressed envious admiration for her trenchant criticism
to a colleague; one day
the unsolicited word came:
she had expressed interest in meeting me...
A shared life of letters -
the Sunday papers read in bed -
with her reviews in them -
the flow of sparkling wit -
a shared life of letters -
the plot of all her books the same..
the failed romance,
the material to hand...
the literary world's knowing gossip..
I flunked it
Subsequently,
on Friday afternoons,
I sat opposite her on the bus
from Piccadilly
to her small but dress-maker- neat flat
just off King's Road, Chelsea
bought with the prize-money, I guess
and the increased royalties
(the men still scoffing at her standard plot,
the women admiring her subtlety in describing
the bruised but knowing human heart...)
I knew her face, from in the press;
she didn't know mine.
I sat opposite her on the bus
- neatly dressed, together -
contemplating
in bittersweet incongruity
the novel I never lived
and she never wrote
differently
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why do I do this every Sunday? Even the book reviews seem to be the same as last week's. Different books same reviews.
quote by John Osborne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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