Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws… — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
Interviewer: What is your greatest regret? Gorey: That I don't have one — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
I should like a parsley sandwich. To the best of my knowledge they are not in season. — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
I really think I write about everyday life. I don't think I'm quite as odd as others say I am. — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
There was a young lady named Mae Who smoked without stopping all day; As pack followed pack, Her lungs first turned black, And eventually… — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
“Apropos of nothing at all except that it has been on my mind and I think I had better say it because it accounts… — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
“How elegant! how choice! how gay! To think one doesn’t have to pay. There is sound of falling tears; It comes from nowhere to… — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
I just kind of conjured them up out of my subconscious and put them in order of ascending peculiarity. — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
I've never had any intentions about anything. That's why I am where I am today, which is neither here nor there, in a literal… — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
The Suicide, as she is falling, Illuminated by the moon, Regrets her act, and finds appalling The thought she will be dead so soon. — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
“He presented it with a length of string and passed on to the statue of Corrupted Endeavor to await the arrival of Autumn.” — Edward Gorey Copy Share Image
