McCabe's Law: Nobody has to do anything.
quote by Charles McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Nobody has to do anything.
quote by Charles McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any clod can have the facts; having opinions is an art.
quote by Charles McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No pope ever condemned slavery.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any clod can have the facts having opinions is an art.
quote by Charles McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any body of men who believe in hell will persecute whenever they have the power.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any clod can have the facts, but having opinions is an Art.
Charles McCabe in San Francisco Chronicle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The theist and the scientist are rival interpreters of nature, the one retreats as the other advances.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is strange how your understanding of a play changes. It normally happens after a performance and you suddenly think, 'So that's what that line really means' - it's like a light going on.
quote by Richard McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The making of an Atheist implies a mental stimulation and training which brings into play the primary factors of social progress.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An idea or institution may arise for one reason and be maintained for quite a different reason.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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If you are feeling something, then Shakespeare felt it and wrote about it - and wrote about it so eloquently.
quote by Richard McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I AM what is called a Feminist. Thirty years ago I left a monastery and began a sane human existence. Within two or three years, I find, I was defending the rights of women.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birds, Batsmen and Bowlers
The throstle now in English lanes
Bids Summer strew her dear delights. . . .
But we, intent on cricket gains,
Watch well our valiant willow knights.
With eager eyes on cabled news,
We watch each bravely mounting score;
With ears half frozen, we refuse
To go to bed; but crane for more
From out the ether, as we sit
And 'listen-in,' tho' midnight's gone.
While glorious centuries they hit
(And if it isn't Bradman, it's Ponsford;
and if it isn't Ponsford, it's Woodfull;
and if it isn't Woodfull, it's McCabe;
and if it isn't McCabe, it's Chipperfield;
and if it isn't Chipperfield -)
Gosh! Can this sort of thing go on?
Our hope lies not alone in Don;
Others remain to carry on.
The Merry Mavis, fluting free
In England now by wood and weald,
Calls from the edge of Arcady. . . .
But, as our bowlers take the field,
We mark them with a mental eye,
Striving against the mimic foe,
Despite one Shaw. (Let Mavis cry,
The foolish fowl.) We see them mow
The wickets down; this way and that,
Turning the ball. Rare joy we sup
To mark their cunning beat the bat -
(And if it isn't Wall, it's O'Reilly;
and if it isn't O'Reilly, it's Grimmett;
and if it isn't Grimmett, it's Fleetwood-Smith;
and if it isn't Fleetwood-Smith -)
Oh Gosh! Can our men keep this up?
The Test? Alas, what bitter cup -
Hey! Shut that kookaburra up!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Creeds made in Dark Ages are like drawings made in dark rooms.
quote by Joseph McCabe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epic
I have lived in important places, times
When great events were decided, who owned
That half a rood of rock, a no-man's land
Surrounded by our pitchfork-armed claims.
I heard the Duffys shouting "Damn your soul!"
And old McCabe stripped to the waist, seen
Step the plot defying blue cast-steel -
"Here is the march along these iron stones."
That was the year of the Munich bother. Which
Was more important? I inclined
To lose my faith in Ballyrush and Gortin
Till Homer's ghost came whispering to my mind.
He said: I made the Iliad from such
A local row. Gods make their own importance.
poem by Patrick Kavanagh
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Following Rita
Made my exit on the turn pike
I saw the stateside toll and shuffled for some change
I paid a man that talked as if he knew me
And I could see it in his eyes
He could tell that I was running away
What are you waiting for
It's just a minute away
Travel light you might just
Find yourself there for the day
What are you waiting for
It's just a minute away
Following Rita
Following Rita
Stopped to make a call and picked up Elvis
Elvis James McCabe a future millionaire
He wrestled with his thoughts out loud
About two girls that he had left behind
And said for forty five dollars
He could help me on my way and get rich too
There was talk about after high school
I would get a job
Gig at night and she would go to some
Community school
But her father changed jobs
And we cried together
As her plane was flying away
Well the phone never was enough
For us to hold on to
Now every mile that I drive away
Get's me closer to you, yeah
song performed by by Train
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Listener
Why, certainly. Let's listen to the cricket.
Oh, I'm quite keen. Test match, I understand.
At... What's that? Oh, Australia's at the wicket.
South Africa - a most intriguing land.
Yes, I was there in - nineteen - let me see
In nineteen - Dear me! Memory is so tricky.
Met Cecil Rhodes, you know. He said to me,
I recollect - eh? Oh. The wicket's sticky.
Great Cecil Rhodes. There was a master mind,
A dreamer, yet so practical, creative.
South Africa, Well, well. Today I find
Their urgent problem doubtless is the native,
Zulus, you know. Basutos. In the war
With Kruger - Eh? Oh, sorry. Are they playing?
Really? What's all the caterwauling for?
Eagleton out? Pity... What was I saying?
Of course, yes, Africa. I've seen it all,
From Jo'burg up thro' Kenya to Fashoda.
One night in Cairo I plainly recall
(Oh, thanks. A very small one. Heaps of soda)...
That day I brought my first big lion down -
Wounded, you know. I thought my time had ended.
Just then Smith fired - Beg pardon? Brown? Who's Brown?
Oh, hit another fourer did he? Splendid!...
...So then the old witch doctor made his magic.
Ghastly! Incredible! Yet, who could doubt?
That's Africa, mysterious primal, tragic,
Those voodoo rites ... McCabe? Is he yet out?
What? Finished, have they? Thought I missed the din.
Twenty to two? It can't be! Shocking! Shocking!
Thanks for allowing me to listen in.
Enjoyed it, too. Well, I shan't need much rocking.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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