Frases de Max Beerbohm

Max Beerbohm foto

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Max Beerbohm

Data de nascimento: 24. Agosto 1872
Data de falecimento: 20. Maio 1956
Outros nomes: Henry Maximilian Max Beerbohm

Max Beerbohm, pseudônimo de Sir Henry Maximilian Beerbohm foi um parodista e caricaturista inglês.

Mais informações: N. John Hall escreveu uma biografia sobre Max Beerbohm, de nome "A Kind of Life”, Yale University Press.


„A maior parte das mulheres não é tão jovem como se pinta.“

„O trabalho de um homem é mais o suplemento necessário dele próprio do que o resultado disso.“


„Nenhum trabalho de qualidade pode ser feito sem concentração e auto-sacrifício, esforço e dúvida“

„Existe muito mais coisa para ser dita sobre o fracasso. Ele é muito mais interessante do que o sucesso.“

„Um homem presunçoso está simplesmente satisfeito com o efeito que produz nos outros. Um homem vaidoso está satisfeito com o efeito que produz em si próprio.“

„Only the insane take themselves seriously.“

„Only mediocrity can be trusted to be always at its best. Genius must always have lapses proportionate to its triumphs.“

„You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs. But by standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of men.“


„Mankind is divisible into two great classes: hosts and guests.“

„History repeats itself. Historians repeat each other."

[]“
Collected Works of Max Beerbohm

„Nobody ever died of laughter.“

„One is taught to refrain from irony, because mankind does tend to take it literally. In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is conversely unsage to make a simple and direct statement. So what is one to do? The dilema needs a whole volume to itself.“ Zuleika Dobson


„Some people are born to lift heavy weights,
some are born to juggle golden balls.“

„No fine work can be done without concentration and self-sacrifice and toil and doubt.“

„I utilise all my spare moments. I've read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I collect ferns.“ Zuleika Dobson

„Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her was his love than the crowd's. And now again it was only the crowd she cared for. He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, producing a penny from one lad's elbow, a threepenny-bit from between another's neck and collar, half a crown from another's hair, and always repeating in that flute-like voice of hers: "Well, this is rather queer!“ Zuleika Dobson

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