Tynan Quotes

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A novel is a static thing that one moves through a play is a dynamic thing that moves past one.

Kenneth Tynan
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A novel is a static thing that one moves through a play is a dynamic thing that moves past one.

Kenneth Tynan
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All of life is more or less what the French would call s'imposer - to be able to create one's own terms for what one does.

Kenneth Tynan
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What when drunk one sees in other women one sees in Garbo sober.

Kenneth Tynan
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A critic is a man who knows the way but can't drive the car.

Kenneth Tynan
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The unique thing about Margaret Rutherford is that she can act with her chin alone. Among its many moods I especially cherish the chin commanding the chin in doubt and the chin at bay.

Kenneth Tynan
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A good drama critic is one who perceives what is happening in the theatre of his time. A great drama critic also perceives what is not happening.

Kenneth Tynan
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Coming to New York from the muted mistiness of London, as I regularly do, is like travelling from a monochrome antique shop to a technicolor bazaar.

Kenneth Tynan
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The only other white people we saw during the three days we stayed there were a German couple intent on taking pictures of their stuffed sheep in a variety of locations around the world.

Tynan, Life Nomadic: How to Travel the World for Less Than You Pay in Rent
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Even though I didn’t originally buy it for you, because like an idiot I avoided your feelings like the plague, I hadn’t noticed until now that it wasn’t the lucky price that had drawn me to it, but the colour of it.” I heaved a deep breath, preparing myself. I remembered the last time I had said something so cheesy, and how he had laughed but I continued anyway, before my shyness could take over.“Hurry up, before you start regretting.” The taxi man had said. And I did.I looked him square in the eyes, blushing so furiously I was sure even my dark skin wouldn’t hide it. He met my gaze, somewhat shyly, which was a rare sight. “So I’ve decided to give this necklace to you as a symbol for what I realised today. The colour is green, like your… uh, like your eyes… and your eyes are my kryptonite.” I mumbled, looking at him into the eyes right until the end, until his face turned completely red and his jaw dropping so low I was sure it almost hit the counter, his eyes sparkling, wide with shock.

Anja Owona Okoa, What if we're faeries?
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That’s quite the specific search...'Sadistic Old-Bag-Murdering Witches'—I can’t even begin to imagine what that involves.

Stacey T. Hunt, Trick
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